The Emergency Room

Had a few people email me to ask me where I am….awwwwwwww….miss you too guys (want to write GUISE, not sure why.)

Anyway…am having grown up fun in Cape Town. And by grown up fun I mean NOT GOING TO THE TWO OCEANS AQUARIUM. And drinking a lot of cocktails.

It’s raining a bit, but I don’t care. Am driving a really shitty hire car, but don’t really care about that either. Loads of drunken street noise at night so haven’t had much sleep, care a little bit about that.

So this is my hipster hotel room, complete with blood-splattered blinds and refraction mirrors. Hmmm…look at bit out of place in it with my normal clothes.

Okay guise, that’s it see you all soon, can’t really say when. Don’t forget to enjoy yourselves.

Just call him Jerry Seinfeld

The pinnacle of two-year-old humour.

Jackson: Ou MacDonald had a POO, eeeiiieeeyyyoooooooo, and on that POO he had a POOOOOO, eeeeeeeeiiiieeeeeyyyyyyoooooo.

Cue 30 seconds of uncontrollable laughter.

*cue snort and snigger from mommy*

Jackson would like you all to know…

…that you shouldn’t fuck with a girl in his class called Naomi. Because she will do this to you…

btw, when I was taking these photos I asked Jackson to show me his most favourite expression, and this is what he came up with…

Apparently, he’s GRUMPY.

2.5

Dearest Jackson

The other day we were driving in the car when you said to me: “Look over there, Mommy. Look over there at that orange bus.”

And there it was. Your first fully formed, perfectly constructed, grammatically correct sentence.

I was so proud of you. So incredibly proud, but also so incredibly sad, because it’s the beginning of the end isn’t it? Soon all your little speech quirks and vocab cutenesses will be gone. Soon you will actually say LION instead of LYNIN or VET instead of NET. Soon, STINKY FART won’t be the most hilarious thing that you can think of to say. Soon, but hopefully not too soon, you will talk in the voice of a man. And I will be so incredibly proud of you then too.

There are times when I look at you with your perfect 30 month old body and your beautiful face and my heart – literally – aches with love for you. Then I have to fight the urge to run over to you and hug you and hug you and HUG you until my arms want to fall off with the effort. Not that you’d mind all that much if I did that, because FINALLY you like hugging me now, finally you’ll kiss me without me having to threaten you first and finally you’ll reluctantly tell me that you love me, if I ask nicely enough. I’m sorry I ask so much, sometimes I even annoy myself with it.

And while I’m apologising, I might as well get a few things out the way here once and for all. I’m sorry that sometimes I let you go to bed without having a bath, I’m sorry that sometimes I let you eat Smarties for supper instead of vegetables, I’m sorry that all the food I make for you to eat is YUKKY and so I compensate by giving you too much chocolate milk, I’m sorry that sometimes I let you stay up way beyond your bedtime just because I want to hang out with you for a bit longer, I’m sorry that sometimes I encourage you to come inside and watch tv instead of playing in the garden, I’m sorry that I spoil you and indulge you and discipline you sporadically at best and let you get away with murder. All these terrible things things that I do are setting you up with bad habits that you’re going to work a life time to try and break but will never be able to. And then, rightly so, you will blame me. And when you tell me that I’ve ruined you life, all I will be able to say is: “But DUDE, you have great teeth.” Because I take very good care of your teeth.

Baby, I don’t know what is going to happen to our little twosome in the near future…we may become three, even four one day soon. But whatever shape we take I want you to know that these past two and a half years – these past 30 months – have been the most incredible and beautiful and special of my entire life. Because you breathed life into my life. And I thank you for that.

Happy two-and-a-half birthday poppet, I love you more than anything else in the world.

Mommy

25 May 2008
25 May 2007

Everything’s changing, nothing stays the same

The other day someone said to me that their daughter was two and a half, and I was all like TWO AND A HALF…OMG…she’s so old and so grown up.

And then I realised that Jackson is two and a half too.

And then I nearly fell over.

He was only one here.

This morning, 7.52am

In the car on the way to school, Jackson has his fingers deep in his nose.

Me: What you doing Jackson?

Jackson: Finding bogies. Big bogies, Mommy.

Me: Oh, right.

Jackson (proffering me his finger): Here Mommy, LOOK, big bogies.

Me (proffering him a tissue): That’s cool baby, where do we wipe bogies when we’ve found them?

Jackson: Ummmmmmmmmm…on Mommy’s t-shirt.

Me: Awesome.

Sometimes I am so grateful that I don’t have a girl child

I have sore stomach muscles today. And the reason why, is that yesterday my child made me laugh harder than I have in years.

I can’t really tell you exactly HOW this happened, because it’s pretty skanky, so let me give you a hypothetical approximation instead.

So, say (hypothetically) there are two people – a big person and a small person – sitting on the sofa. And say, the small one has just had his bath and is naked from the waste down. Then, say that all of a sudden the small person jumps up, turns around and shoves his bum into the big person’s face, lets out a HUGE one and shouts: “STINKY FART”. And then say that the big person, exaggeratedly waves her hand in front of her face and loudly says: “PHROOOOOOAAAARRR, STINKY FART.” And then say that the small person laughs so hard at this that he falls off the sofa, which makes the big person laugh so hard she nearly falls off the sofa too. And then say you repeat this about 17 times.

Yeah, say HYPOTHETICALLY that this happens, then HYPOTHETICALLY that would be why I have sore stomach muscles today.

Love.Angel.Baby

If this photo of baby Jackson doesn’t melt your heart and make you go awwww just a little bit, then you have no soul and we can no longer be friends.

All of the stars are fading away, just try not to worry you’ll see them someday

Sometimes I think back to the pre-Jackson me. The me that had such definite and absolute parenting ideas.

The me that was NEVER going to smack her child, the me that was ONLY ever going to feed him freshly prepared meals, the me that was going to ONLY allow my child to eat fruit NEVER sweets, the me that was NEVER going to shout but rather remain calm and serene at all times and the me that was CERTAINLY NEVER, EVER going to use my tv as a babysitter.

Yeah, sometimes I think back to that pre-Jackson me and have a jolly good laugh at her.

Listen with your ears

Lord knows I love that sweet child of mine, but if there is one thing that he does that infuriates me above all else, it is that he DOES.NOT.LISTEN.

And I’m not just talking about him disobeying me (although he does this too, undoubtedly), I’m talking about when he point blank does not even register that he’s heard me.

When it’s like I am talking into a void, a black hole of nothingness, like my voice is a whisper in the great abyss.

Usually I address this by repeating myself louder and louder until I reach a octive so shrill that he has no choice BUT to listen to me. But the other day I’d had enough, so Jackson and I sat down to have a little chat.

Which went like this:

Me: Now Jackson, Mommy gets VERY cross when you don’t listen to her.

Jackson: Ja.

Me: Yes, very cross and very angry and very frustrated.

Jackson: Ja.

Me: Because it is rude, not to listen to someone when they are speaking to you.

Jackson: Ja.

Me: So you must listen to Mommy.

Jackson: Ja.

Me: Listen with your ears.

Jackson: Ja.

Me: *once more for emphasis* Your ears, do you understand me?

Jackson: Ja.

Me: Good. Now what do you have to do?

Jackson: *looks around all shifty eyed* Um…um…mmm…ummmmmm…play horsies?

Me: Dear god and baby jesus in heaven please grant me the strength not to murder this poor innocent.

Jackson: Ja.