The Georgous

The weekend visit to the lake brought more excitement that one could have ever imagined to the life of my dear 16-month old. The duck and goose chasing became more than just a practise in independent walking…..

You see, G is used to seeing ducks, two-dimensional, usually yellow, on the pages of her books, occassionally we get to somewhere where ducks might be in the remote vicinity, but she had, until the weekend past, that is, yet to be close enough to actually touch one.

The lakeside was filled with swans and geese and ducks, pretty as they were, they filled the entire pathway with ‘crap’, but i digress. My dear sweet girl, could not help but struggle to get away from us, down on her feet, arms flapping wildly to try and catch the birds.

duckDuckDUCK!!! duckDuckDUCK!!!

Probably thinking that calling out to them might bring the ducks and geese closer to her, and some did, and that’s when I realised all 77cm of her stood eyeball to eyeball with the geese, albeit fearlessly!

And me, due to my crazy geese-pecking-phobia, (and before you ask, No! I have never before been goose-pecked) I quickly pick up my avian-loving baby and leg it out of there…..before well, before

THE GEESE GET US!!!

I have dark hair and yellow skin, so does my husband and naturally so does my daughter. As we live in the UK, to the next person, it may mean we are different, although more likely it may mean absolutely nothing apart from the fact that we are of some ‘Oriental’ ancestry.

Looks aside though, I have come to realise that there are so so many fundamental differences in the way I do, say, behave and ultimately respond to the world around, simply because I have had different values ingrained.

It does mean though, I am constantly in conflict within as to how we bring up Georgia and what we teach her.

On one hand I want her to grow up, respecting people (especially the elders), being compassionate, filial, thoughtful and caring, yet in this seemingly Western world of self, ie self importance, self love, self preservation, freedom of expression and independence, I don’t want her to lose out either.

I love the independence of the children here. I am in awe of the little blond three-year old boy who ambled upstairs, alone(!) at Starbucks in Bath, to help his mummy find a table, while she queued to buy them Mochas.

How do we find the ‘middle’ path, live the best of both worlds and not feel like we have sacrificed one for the other?

Georgia, do you want potty?

No answer….

Georgia, do you want potty? No? When you want, you say ‘pot pot’ OK?

A slight nod and she goes back to tearing books down from the bookshelf.

5 minutes later while I stand at the sink, washing up, an odour permeates all the way to the kitchen.

My first thought

Must be the neighbour

I finish the washing up, hang up the rubber gloves and go and assess the damage to the bookshelf. That’s when I find out, it is NOT a good idea to leave Georgia playing alone without a nappy and without anyone watching her.

We have always managed to ‘catch’ Georgia in time to sit her on the potty for ‘the big one’ and for the first time… there’s poo down her legs, on her pants ….just YUCKS!

Rush up the stairs, two at a time, and swing her in to the bath, shout at DaddyDear to get off the phone to help with the situation.

So G ends up having the first shower of her life, thoroughly enjoying the new rain-like atmosphere in bath and me….well, like a friend says, ‘It’s a good job, we love them so much’ 

Mornings are a really fun time with Georgia, she wakes at a *&^!” , well, shall we say an evil hour of about 5.30am and is usually raring to go the minute she’s fully awake, which is maybe 5.32am!

Mornings are also when she’s not grouchy waiting for food and not grouchy from being over tired from the lack of sleep (she doesn’t seem to nap properly at nursery, a good nap is maybe 1.5 hours long, ALL DAY!).

So, anyway, this morning she noticed our cups had a different coloured liquid to hers (water or milk) and fervently pointed to our cups saying

There! There! There!  (this has been her favourite word since she started talking)

So I told her, “That’s tea. Can you say tea?”  and VOILA!

She said,

“Tea”

although really it sounded more like T…

Can you tell the difference???

At first a little sobbing and then curling up and then wild trashing….
We had to turn on the light in the bedroom and then try to wake Georgia up and it took a while.

Are your teeth painful?

Is your tummy pain-pain?

How nice if they could talk and tell you if it was only a nightmare or worse a night terror!

Weekends are always a good time for ‘firsts’.

Perhaps it’s because G’s in nursery most of the week and our time with her is limited to the 5am – 8am manic morning rush or the 4.30 / 5.00 – 7.00 evening slowdown that we don’t really catch much of what she might have learnt to do in the day. Nursery reports are totally useless  pointless in that respect but I digress…

New word – Sunday: cheese which came out sounding more like ‘cis’, brilliant attempt though as this was in relation to her ABC book which had a picture of a wedge of cheese.

Another first was having her hair in pony tails…pictures to follow soon.

Quite clearly my first attempt a blogging happened 388 days ago — and died a quick sure death, I did not write again after the first post…it was never published!  So in the spirit of blogging-proper, here it is below in all it’s full glory – unedited. (WARNING – long post!)

15 weeks… in a flash  – written 388 days ago  (see Georgia at fifteen weeks)

Amazing that G is now exactly 15 weeks today.

Time seems to have gone everywhere and nowhere all at the same time…a bizzare phrase I’m sure but you see, every day that I spend at home with baby, i wonder when she’ll next sleep for longer than 20 minutes or if she’ll decide to eat over the next 3 or will it be 4 hours—or maybe less. And yet! at the same time, I can’t help thinking that a significant proportion of my maternity leave is nearly over—and I still hardly know her!

Not to mention this is technically the first blog post! – although I’m hoping to back date things.

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Georgous is G’s nickname from her dad.

The story is, he refers to her frequently as Georgia-Gorgeous, and Georgous is a somewhat accidentally shortened version which seems to have stuck.