Nighttime Bed-hopping.

I know stereotypically it is the angry wife that turfs the husband out of the marital bed and into the spare room.  I'm happy to say that I have never once done so.  The same can not be said of Chloe.  She has, in her 18months of life, done something I haven't done in 10 years.  

Chloe, and therefore Alex and I, have been going through a little bit of a rough patch when it comes to sleeping these last two weeks.  The other night she awoke at some ungodly hour of the morning calling out "Mama....Mama...." and would not settle.  We've found that she will settle in bed with us though so Alex got up to bring her through.  When she saw him rather than me she was clearly displeased and started crying.  Loudly.  He brought her to bed and handed her over to me.  She was sitting up on my stomach but still crying, except now she was starting to say something between her sobs.  She was looking over at Alex, waving her outstretched finger at him and saying "Dada....No!.....Dada....No!"  I looked at her and asked "Chloe, do you want Dada to leave?"  The intense sobbing stopped in an instant.  She looked straight at me and vigorously nodded her head accompanied by a "Ya!"  After confirming again that she did in fact want Dada to exit toute de suite, Alex dutifully, if bemusedly, hauled himself off to the spare room.  Chloe happily settled herself in a freshly vacant warm spot and went straight to sleep.  Kids, eh?  

A short trip to the park

While we were down visiting Mom and Dad last week Mom and I took Chloe for a bit of fun at a local playpark.  She approved of the See-Saw.  In case you can't baby lip-read, she is saying "More!"

The rocking horse got mixed reviews, that's her pointing to get off after a couple of springs back and forth.  You can clearly see that Mom is enjoying it more than Chloe is.

And she was most unimpressed with the swing.  I don't think her expression needs any translating.

However, after some coaxing, the tunnel was a success.  The lure of crawling to me wasn't quite tempting enough for her, we had much more success when she was crawling to Mom instead.  I don't get a look in when Granny is around.

Chloe is always on the lookout to spot some wildlife - this is her sign for cat.  She is actually very eagle-eyed when it comes to seeing a cat or a dog that we've not even noticed.  Unfortunately there were no cats that day.

Luckily she did see some birds (Signs don't come across so well in still images do they?)

And as the sun was starting to make its way down, it was time to go.

Chloe is a tad on the young side for a lot of the things at these playparks but I'm sure she'll be running, jumping and clambering all over them while I chase after her with my heart in my mouth in no time!

Mmmm Pizza...

Cooking with Chloe

Step 1:  Ask Grandpa (a.k.a. Baba) to whip up some home-made pizza dough.

Step 2:  Ask Mama and Granny (a.k.a. Mee) to neatly spread it out for you, ensuring they are mindful of your preference for thin crusts.

Step 3:  Start piling on the assorted ingredients, being careful to spread out the fresh Basil leaves.  Yes, we are making a gourmet pizza.  

Step 4:  Admire the perfection before it goes in the oven.

Step 5:  Put it in that oven.
Step 6:  Tuck in!

Step 7 (optional):  Roar like a satiated Tiger

The elusive 90%

I got a new camera lens for Christmas. I love it.  It goes down to an aperature of 1.7f.  Lovely for a shallow depth of field (though you have to be very careful what you are focusing on), but also great for allowing a fast shutter speed.  An essential for good toddler photography.  But even with a shutter speed faster than a fraction of a blink of an eye, it still doesn't always go to plan.....

Not great.  I obviously should have cleaned her face, but never mind.  Composition is a little off and whilst I do like seeing an in-focus nose, eyes are better. So let's keep trying.....

Ok, getting better but still with the focus on the tip of the nose and not the eyes.  Unfortunately she has now seen the camera and has it firmly in her sights.

She's moving in and obviously doesn't know, or probably care, that this isn't her best angle. Maybe the next one will be a winner.....

No.

I'm fending her off with my free hand and she's backing away but clearly displeased about it.

She wants to know what the hell I'm still doing pointing the damn camera at her, and why she can't rub her greasy fingers all over the shiny lens in front of her. And I've blown out the highlights.  Again.

She is most displeased.  She wants mama to take her camera and back off.  Okay, one last try....

And that was it folks.  That was the best I got.  So believe me when I tell you that getting that "perfect shot" with a toddler is 10% skill and 90% luck.

NYC Solo

I'm a little overdue with this post, seeing as I've been back for over a week now but such is life with a busy toddler.  So, New York.  Sans enfant.  Was it so very different travelling on my own?  Hell yes.  

I left the flat for the airport a bit morose.  Chloe scuppered my plan of catching a taxi before she even woke up, to avoid a painful goodbye.  She reliably wakes up at 7:30-8am every morning.  Despite this, on the morning of my departure she awoke at 5:30am.  It's like she knew.  So a tearful goodbye saw me sitting through an early morning taxi ride feeling rather sad and anxious about how she'd get along without me.  Now, I'm not normally a fan of overly talkative cabbies, especially first thing in the morning, but I was quite glad for one on that morning.  He got me talking and I was grateful for the distraction.  Once at the airport the benefits of solo travel were soon apparent.  The minimal carry-on, the relaxing cup of coffee, the ability to actually sit down and read something for more than 20 seconds at a time.  As much as I love my child, I can say without a shadow of a doubt that a 7.5hr plane ride is immeasurably more pleasant without her sitting on my lap.  

Upon arrival I made my way by rail through the stark, mist-veiled, industrial landscape of New Jersey to  the familiar skyline of Manhattan and then on to Brooklyn. I arrived to a mild New York winter with blue skies, sunshine and a freshness to the air - it was perfect.  After a brief stop at Kate & Daniel's apartment I headed back into town for an appointment with some scissors. A few hours later, my hair and wallet were considerably lighter.  But hey, surely every girl needs a really expensive haircut at least once in their life, right?

On my way back to Brooklyn after my haircut.

Kate arrived home from Miami later that evening and we headed out on foot to Colonie, a really great restaurant on Atlantic Avenue.  I sipped a caipirinha while Kate abstained with a tonic & bitters while we waited for a table, and chatted about wedding preparations.  The food was fabulous, but then so was pretty much every single thing I ate in New York on this trip.  A lovely evening to break through the jet-lag barrier and start my holiday.

Our table at Colonie

The next morning Kate and Daniel had a bit of a lie-in while my jet-lag had me up at the crack of dawn.  Teddy was sounding like he could do with a walk and my stomach was making similar noises so off we went for a stroll down to a local cafe for some breakfast.  I must admit, walking through the quiet Brooklyn Heights neighbourhood with a new look, dressed quite differently from my normal day-to-day garb and sporting a large(ish) canine on the end of a leash, I almost felt like I was someone else.  A local out with their dog for a mid-morning stroll and cup of coffee at their cute local. 

Me and the Ted-ster

The rest of the weekend was a Brunch-fest.  We met up with Daniel's Mother and two sisters-in-law on Saturday at The Fat Radish.  It was lovely to meet them, and a pair of adorable 9 month old twins that came along too!  Baby cuteness, or what?  Made me miss my little pirate.  Saturday night saw us out with Daniel's cousin Aaron, eating Montreal Jewish Deli style at Mile End.  I think it was the first Pastrami sandwich I've ever had.  Thick cut, smoked meat goodness.  

We ate lots, drank a fair bit too, and then drank a little bit more in a bar afterwards.  They free-pour in New York.  It's kind of lethal, or would be if you weren't as light-weight a drinker as I am.  My desire not to have to deal with a toddler whilst hung-over is so deeply ingrained that I'm not sure my brain would let me drink to excess any more, even if I wanted to!

Post-dinner bar-crawling (to one bar)

Sunday's brunch was another girlie affair to celebrate the engagement, this time with six of Kate's close friends.  The cooks surpassed themselves - spinach pancakes with lime butter, waffles with fresh berries and Maple syrup, chocolate fondue and blood orange mimosas.  Yummers.

Sarah, Sarah, Iza, Ana, Pippa, Kate, Rachel, Me

Sarah's and Kate's wedding plans were popular topics - bridal magazines were perused, food was devoured, shoe and honeymoon ideas discussed.  It was all very relaxed and we whiled away the afternoon slowly working through the chocolate fondue pot.  Come evening Kate and I decided to stay in and she cooked the most amazing food for us, not that we were that hungry after our earlier gluttony!

On Monday I headed over the bridge (well, actually through a tunnel) for some serious clothes shopping.  I was on the hunt for some jeans and it is much easier to do that without having to untie a toddler from you every time you go into a changing room.  So I was intent on making the most of this opportunity and I was going to find some jeans that fit, no matter what!  Luck was with me and three pairs of jeans and some lip liners later I was ready to meet Kate at Eataly for dinner.  It's a great place with several different restaurant stands that you can move between and sample different types of Italian food. Italy, eating, Eataly.  Get it?  Anyway, I discovered that while I had previously thought that I hated everything about Sushi, it turns out that I just hate everything except the raw fish.  I had crudo for the first time, the Italian way of serving raw fish, and I actually really enjoyed it.

And this was after the aubergine pesto and arugula costini, the seafood crudo, and the scallops entree.  

Sarah came along to join us and then we decided to crash Daniel;s evening and headed back to Brooklyn to Marlow & Sons where I kid you not, I had the best pate I have ever tasted in my life.  Creamy chicken liver goodness.  I never thought I'd be writing those words, but this stuff was something else.  The chocolate and salted caramel tart wasn't too bad on the taste buds either!  

The Pate, it didn't stand a chance.

I basically spent 5 days gorging myself on fabulous food, drinking fancy cocktails, hitting the shops and having a great time with everyone.  No complaints there.  It was strange being away from Chloe and not being automatically defined as a "mother" everywhere I went.  And I realised that it isn't just other people's perceptions that define me as such.  It's how I define myself.  It's what I do now, who I am.  If people asked me what I did I used to tell them I was a Vet.  Then for a while I would tell them that I was a Vet, but on maternity leave.  Now if people ask, I just say that I am a mother.  I don't mind that.  I've chosen it and wouldn't have it any other way, but for 5 days I got to be just "Leigh" again and there was something nice about that too.

Brooklyn Heights

Chinatown

The Promenade

Chloe's Staycation while Mama went on Vacation

I loved my trip to New York (more on that later) but I was so excited to get home to see my little girl.  Luckily she didn't snub me for my absence and all was well between us.  She had a great time with Grandma and Granddad Eros, and despite the hard work and dealing with many "Mama....Where?" questions from Chloe, I know they had a lot of fun too.  Here's a little bit of what they got up to:

Playing with silhouettes in the Museum of Scotland's "Imagine" room

A tentative play in the ball pool at the Ocean Commotion soft play room at Our Dynamic Earth

Going for a walk around Holyrood Park and feeding the ducks and swans .  Grandmas can Babywear too!

The day after I got home Chloe treated us to a luxurious lie-in until 9am.  We were very grateful until she barfed all over the kitchen floor.  She then turned into a snuggle-bunny all day and refused to be unwrapped from me, screaming if I ever took her out to readjust something.  After our separation, I can't say I was all that put out to have to snuggle her cute little self for 6 hours straight.  We made an attempt to take her out for the day but there was no way she was going to be running off to play so this was pretty much how we both spent the day:

Luckily it was very much a 24hr bug and after a night cuddled in bed with us she was back to her normal self.  

That was definitely the right decision.....Or was it?

It's a psychological minefield.  This whole business of being a parent - from conception to adulthood - is fraught with potential failure.  Or at least, the feeling that you've failed in some way. The feeling that you haven't done the best you could, that you should have tried harder, or made a different choice.  And it doesn't even have to be a big thing, even little choices end up being agonized over.  I remember sobbing and feeling like a terrible mother when I gave Chloe a dummy at 3 weeks old.  It isn't something I'm proud of, but I shouldn't have felt so ashamed about it either.  Of course, I can look back on it now and wonder how on earth it seemed such a big deal, but at the time...

I'm not sure if the internet is a help or a hinderance in this regard for parents today.  I've found it invaluable as a source of information but sometimes I feel like I need to tell myself, "Just.  step.  away.  from Google."  I mean, so far I've learned from Google that:

• According to the World Health Organization, babies should be exclusively breastfed for the first 6 months of their life.  No Problem. Chloe and I managed to muddle through some mild reflux and I proudly fed her only breastmilk until she was 6 months old.  Nothing to feel guilty about there, surely.  Except that I read this article the other day and apparently I have increased her risk of iron deficiency anaemia which is "known to be linked to irreversible adverse mental, motor or psychosocial outcomes." not to mention that I've potentially increased her risk of food allergies or coeliac disease.  Now, I'm not saying that the evidence in that article is definitive and 100% irrefutable.  I'm sure arguments are being made for both sides, and in fact there is a lot of information on this website that tells me that I did exactly the right thing for her, and the WHO is still recommending 6 months of exclusive breastfeeding.  But the seed of doubt is there now.   
• Babies are born with a "Virgin Gut".  This idea also supports the exclusive breastfeeding for 6 months recommendation.  I read about it.  It made sense to me.  It was one of the main reasons I didn't want to wean early or give any formula at all before 6 months.  I was quite proud of myself for maintaining her "virgin gut" and all the benefits that went along with that.  Oh, but then much later on I learned that those medications she was on for that reflux I mentioned earlier, not to mention the occasional use of Calpol, pretty much put paid to the idea that I had ever managed to maintain her gut in its "virgin" form.  So there go all those benefits out the window.
• The frequent use of Paracetamol products in children has been associated with an increased risk of asthma, hayfever and eczema at ages 6-7yrs.  So, that Calpol I mentioned above? Yup, you guessed it - potentially dropped the ball with that one too.  Now, the research doesn't prove that paracetamol use causes these conditions, just that its use has been associated with an increased incidence of them.  So about 6 years from now if Chloe develops any of these conditions, I won't know for sure that it was my fault, but I will wonder if it was.  
• According to the American Association of Paediatrics, children under 2 years should not watch any TV.  Apparently watching TV and other electronic media gets in the way of children exploring, playing, and interacting with parents and others - activities essential for encouraging learning and healthy physical and social development.  Ok, I'm not going to feel too bad about this one considering the fact that Chloe is relatively ambivalent about TV and we don't tend to have it on in the background too much.  If I'm honest, her ambivalence is probably the main reason we don't bother with it!  If she loved TV then I can see how it might be a tempting tool to provide some moments of peace to get some things done.  So I guess I really have her to thank for the fact that I don't have to feel too guilty about excessive TV watching (though really, according to the AAP, if I were an ideal parent I'd never have switched it on in the first place....)  This little nugget of information has managed to worm its way into my brain and now every time I switch on the TV to CBeebies for the odd 10mins I feel a twinge of guilt about it.  

You see how it is?  What it is like being a parent?  The constant anxiety and second-guessing about every single little choice you make?  Or is it just me?  Maybe I'm becoming excessively neurotic in my motherhood.  Who knows.  We haven't even touched on the psychological damage we can wreak!  Philip Larkin comes to mind:

This be the Verse

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.   

    They may not mean to, but they do.   

They fill you with the faults they had

    And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn

    By fools in old-style hats and coats,   

Who half the time were soppy-stern

    And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.

    It deepens like a coastal shelf.

Get out as early as you can,

    And don’t have any kids yourself.

Lately it isn't just worrying about them once they're born.  Having had two miscarriages in a row, I now get to obsess over all the things I might have done wrong, and also figure out how on earth to not do anything that might potentially cause a problem the third time round.  I know statistically that it's still likely to have been a run of bad luck, that I didn't do anything wrong.  They were just the wrong combinations of genes that weren't meant to be and I couldn't have done anything to change that.  Knowing that, even believing that still doesn't remove the niggling doubts in the back of my head.  If I were to do it all right then  really, I shouldn't be drinking any caffeine because >200mg/day has been associated with an increased risk of miscarriage in early pregnancy, I shouldn't be taking Chloe anywhere she might be exposed to large groups of children in case she contracts Hand, Foot & Mouth Disease as it can increase your risk of miscarriage in early or late pregnancy (she did have it when I miscarried the first time), I should get the Swine Flu jab because contracting that increases your risk of miscarriage (except that there are claims that the vaccine can cause miscarriage....), I should definitely never eat eggs with a soft yolk or rare meat or most cheeses.  Oh, and alcohol - is that one glass of Champagne on a special occasion ok or not?  

So what do I do next time?  I don't even know when I should start trying to conceive.  The healthcare workers at the hospital say we can try after one normal period, and many websites seem to agree on this.  Then I read a few sites that claim I should be waiting 2-3 cycles before trying again.  So who is right?  What should we do?  I'm inclined to think that the advice we are getting from the hospital is good advice and just start trying again soon if we feel ready for it.  But that's what we did last time and it didn't turn out so well.  Was that because we tried too soon?  Was my uterus unprepared for another baby so soon?  Probably not but we'll never know.    

We will never know.  That is the crux of it.  We will never really know how much any of these choices that we make will have an effect.  The internet in all its glory as a fount of knowledge is a double-edged sword.  Sometimes ignorance is better.  If Chloe develops problems later on I will never know if it was just destined to be, or if it is in some small part due to a choice that I made years before.  The fact that I made the choices with the best intentions, based on the knowledge that was available at the time is some comfort.  But how much nicer it might have been to carry on in blissful ignorance all the while thinking that I definitely did the right thing?  

If things don't go well with the next pregnancy, as much as I might believe that I hadn't done anything wrong, as much as I may not believe some of the theories I've read out there, part of me will always wonder what might have happened if I had only made a slightly different choice.  That's the danger with knowing that there is a choice.  In reality, parents can't win.  The goalposts keep moving.  Perfection in parenting is unattainable.  All I can do is try to do my best but I need to accept that I will never be the best.  I will just have to keep trying to do the right thing, not that I even know what that is half the time.  I will worry and stress about all my choices, big or small, but in a way I'm glad that I am the kind of person.  That I care enough to agonize over even the little things in an attempt to be the best mother I can be for Chloe.  Even on a bad day, no matter how much I may feel that my ability as a parents is second-rate, I know that my love for her is not.