- Catherine Irwin
- Perth, WA, Australia
- Hi friends. To those I have met in person and the many I haven't - welcome to our nest. Thanks so much for stopping by. I am a mama of six baby birds and wife to one papa bird. Our nest is an intricately woven home, crafted over time, through the highs and lows of life, and many in-betweens. We are soon to leave our Australian nest to re-locate to our second home, the UK. This is our story, of our new life in a new country, the trials and tribulations, bidding goodbye to precious friends and embracing new. I know at times, our wings will be flapping so hard to keep us moving forward that we will tire, however, a little perseverence will bring effortless gliding amongst a soft breeze, and even stronger wings for the journey ahead. Welcome to our flight......
Saturday, 6 November 2010
My little baby girls are starting to talk. Ok, not talk, babble.
Guess what their first word was? Mumma? Nope. Beautiful Mumma? Hardly. Precious and oh-so-hard-working-Mumma? Ridiculous!! IT WAS NANNA!!! Yes, Nanna, as in grand-parent, my mum.
Now, here's the deal. If I was the one who carried them for nine months and spent most of that time with my head down the toilet, or in hospital on a drip through dehydration (all true), who was barely able to eat a full meal, or walk without feeling as though those two were going to fall out (sorry - that was an over-share!), whose poor tummy skin was stretched to gigantic proportions and then .... pushed both babies out (with drugs - lots of them) ... would you not think they would say my name first? I mean, surely they were thinking of me when they were saying 'Nanna'. They must have been because I swear they were looking at me when they were 'talking'.
So maybe I am over-exaggerating and the bottom line is it doesn't matter, however, the lovely 'said Nanna', was beside herself with excitement. There was not a hint of 'oh poor Mummy has missed out'. Nope, none, not a bit! It was more a scene of inner satisfaction as a strange sort of peace which came across her face, kind of like the universe had finally done its bit for her - and everything was as it should be - and will be forevermore.
As I said, I am fine with it. I am over it. I have dealt with it. Of course, it always helps to give the girls a teeny-weeny little pinch of their lovely, big, chubby thighs, every time they utter the 'N' word.
That is hypothetically speaking, of course, and any good and perfect mother would never do that.