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Boxes

Oops, was it really July I last wrote.

In excuse, among many other things, we were about to move about four times over the summer – the perils of being caught between a buyer desperate to buy and a seller doing bugger all to sell and changing her mind on multiple occasions.  But move we did, last Friday.  We now live at Box House,  Box Crescent,  Higher Boxness, Box BO0 0XX.  The big girl and small boy are in box heaven, whereas I am in unboxing purgatory hopefully ascending to box free heaven. And managing to resist not boxing my children’s ears when they tamper with my boxes.

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Babble

The small boy mumbles in true northern mumbling style.  He has found his voice and is as chatty as his sister, though not quite as loud.  As yet no one can understand a thing he says.  But the small boy is definitely communicating with a story to tell and questions to ask.  Bilingual babble?  Dutch or English?

In the mornings he and the big girl chatter to each other as they lie in bed and shrieks and giggles come from their room.   The husband and I lie comatosed in bed listening to them and it is lovely to hear so long as it isn’t just when the dawn chorus is beginning.  This morning the big girl took her duvet and collection of favourite toys and camped next to the babe’s cot which took the excitement to a whole new level and along with it a whole new level of noise.

The weather has been hot and sultry.  Yesterday afternoon was just brewing for a storm to come and come it did. First the rumblings of thunder and a few flashes of lightning disguised in the clouds, followed by overhead roars and bangs that made the big girl jump and giggle.  Finally there was a deluge of huge rain; big, warm, fat raindrops.  And then it was gone as soon as it had come leaving a steaming road as the water evaporated in the heat.

Once the lightning had passed the big girl was out in the garden.  Leaping in the rain like a mad thing, splashing in the puddles, shrieking with joy, wearing nothing but a huge smile.

Limbo land

Our flat is finally on the way to being sold.  Am I tempting fate writing this?   When bought our home, the husband and I meant for it to be just for a year or two until we moved back down south.  Five years, two children and one cat later we are finally, hopefully on the way to house hopping but definitely not to one nearer the equator.  Nope, just to a bigger house with a slightly bigger garden in more or less the same area.   The ideal hypothetical house would be just a bit nearer the park.  Or in an even more ideal world several hundred miles further down the road in a bit of rural Cornwall.  Hum, for ideal, please substitute unobtainable dream.

I brought my first-born home to this wee flat and the little man was born in the lounge where I am writing this now.  It is the first home we settled in having lived in a staggering number of rented and borrowed abodes in the ten or so years before we came here.  So it is still home and for us a special one at that.  But we are in that limbo land where we are here but looking forward to the new house … the one that isn’t legally ours yet but mentally is.  We are at that stage where the legal bits are taking so much longer than they should.  We thought a moving date of maybe June, now it’s probably July and we are praying it isn’t August.

 

The big girl:

  1. You. Do. This. NOW.
  2. Daddy’s got a big one.
  3. He should really cook more often.  Daddy can cook, can’t he?  I didn’t know that.

The little boy:

  1. Hiyiyaaaaaa (hello)
  2. mu (most esteemed and loved mother)
  3. duh (father, giver of food and tickles)
They make me smile.

This afternoon we headed to a little playground near us.  The big girl named it Erie’s Playground after a little friend of hers who lived just round the corner from it but who has moved away.  It’s funny how intense and important these new baby friendships can be and then suddenly they stop through returning to work, moving locations or just plain moving on.

Three of my really close baby friends moved away.  One to Scotland, one to the US and one down south.  I keep periodic contact with them and see one when she heads this way.  In a way the fading of these friendships doesn’t matter as life just moves on and baby friends are joined by school yard friends.  But at that newborn time these people were so important to me.  They let me know it wasn’t just me, I wasn’t alone, I wasn’t the only one experiencing a complete life change with added sleepless nights, puke and poo.

Pooped

Hurrah, its Friday.

Breathe.  We reached the end of the week.  In one piece.  Just.

The big girl had a great time in nursery as they were having a party celebrating the end of a long, involved and fun project. This was followed by her bestest’s friends birthday party.  Oh the excitement of life.  How full can a little girl’s life get.   On the way home I picked the small boy from the child minder.  He wasn’t particularly at all pleased to see me, just concerned that he hadn’t had his tea yet and I was late and he was hungry with a capital H and did I really absolutely know that and he would really appreciate food RIGHT now, even if only the merest crust of dried bread.