- 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......
Friday, 18 March 2011
Our little girl, twin number two, has been trying to talk this week.
Her main stream of baby communication has been in the form of 'no'! As in, 'no, no, no, no, no'. Sometimes she accompanies the 'no' with a shake of her head.
When twin two is cruising the house, the 'no' word is prevalent in certain areas. Often when the dishwasher is open, her little hands are absolutely itching to get in there amongst the dirty dishes and tea-stained cups. The hand is sneakily outstretched, eyes look furtively around, body inches closer. Sometimes she crouches down, has a quick sweep of the inside of the machine, then the head starts to shake and we can hear her scolding herself. 'No, no, no!'
I can't for the life of me work out the attraction to a dirty dishwasher and why her soft, smooth, white little hands would want to get all mucky with scraps. But she does, every day. There is a permanent little spot allocated just for her.
Other times it is when she passes the coffee table and there is an array of delicious temptations for chubby little baby hands in the form of magazines, pens, diaries and empty coffee cups. Why would she want to play with blocks when you can suck on a pen and waddle about?
And then there are the couches, the nice, soft, leather couches that to a baby would seem like a giant marshmallow - soft and gooey in the centre with a bit of a spring.
She scrambles up and positions her little bot-bot right in the corner, sitting prettily. However, the moment we turn our heads, she is on her feet and throwing her body in multiple directions to achieve adrenalin charged, dizzying heights. Until, invariably she falls off and cracks her noggin and then screaming ensues.
In a way it is sad that her first lines of communication are 'no'.
Guess what Mummy says all day long?