Beaver grows horns
Yes, the twoness is upon her, and Beaver officially has horns. Cute horns, but horns all the same.
It began a month ago when she stopped her 12 hour long dreamy sleeps, and started to refuse to sleep. It is brutal.
I have dim memories of going through the same thing with Mole and Hedgehog at about this age, and of us doing the ‘controlled crying’ routine. I can’t remember how long it went on for. I just remember sitting at the top of the stairs outside their room and listening to the screaming.
We can’t be bothered to do the controlled crying routine this time. It had semi-success last time when we stuck to it, but one slip-up and we’d be back to square one. This time I’m not reading any desperate sleep deprived parent books. I’m just laying down with her until she goes to sleep, then sitting outside her door ready to repeat the process when she toddles out. This normally takes about two hours, but it’s okay as I can do laptop work on the stairs while I guard the door.
Around midnight she’ll be coming into bed with us anyway, and by then we’ll both be too knackered to move. Then she’ll feed on me, while kicking Mr M&H in the nuts, before finally curling up into an angelic ball and going still.
Then around 4am she’ll wake up and keep nudging me for more boob. This morning she sleepily mumbled that she wanted sausage?!. If it’s not sausage it’s usually a request to watch Mr Tumble on a phone.
In the daylight hours she tries to get as messy as possible, while also being quite concerned with washing her hands, which I guess we have to applaud. Today, while I built a rodent proof chicken feeder in the garden, Beaver sprinkled the bird seed all over the floor of the shed, and smooshed it around with her hands. We then played the ‘sweeping up the bird seed’ game, which in reality was just me sweeping up the bird seed.
All of our recent woodland walks have involved a lot of mud, most of which ends up on Beaver. Beaver loves mud and takes every chance to roll in it. It’s a paradox because she also loves to keep clean. She will jump up and down splashing in the muddiest biggest puddle she can find, before stopping to notice the carnage on her tights, staring at it and declaring in a dreamy way… “Mucky”. We got her some waterproof trousers with stirrups on the ankles, which I stick over her wellies and do the job pretty well, but it only works when we remember to bring them.
Keeping the car clean is an interesting challenge. We got new cars six months ago, and already they both make it look like we live on a farm. Despite a strict rule of keeping wellies in the boot, the backs of seats and foot wells still get impressively muddy. I’ve already given up and resolved to give it a hoover once a year.
Beaver’s love for her sisters makes my heart melt. Her excitement when we collect them from school is classic. She spots them from across the playground and runs towards them in a slow motion ‘chariots of fire’ run. Then it’s dramatic hugs as if they haven’t seen eachother in a year, and a sharing out of any food or drawings they’ve brought home from class.
This weekend Beaver has created a flour snow storm in the kitchen while she was ‘helping’ to make the bread, drawn all over her bedroom door and carpet in marker pen, trodden mud through the house, and decorated the french door glass with something sticky. We spot paint all the walls within four feet of the floor on a regular basis, but the grubby hand prints come back. I’m thinking of getting this ‘child proof’ paint that is washable, and might save on the spot painting for the next ten years. Mr M&H is not so sure, but I’ve ordered a sample tin in ‘banana split’ colour, so I’m pretty serious about it.
The house gets busier, and messier, and more trashed as we go along. We try to clean and tidy, we have clear-outs, but it can seem like a losing battle. Maybe the nomads are on to something. They seem like they have less work to do, or less washing-up anyway. They could travel light, so maybe we could live light?, it’s a goal that I chase, but I’m not sure if it can be done.
In any case, Beaver likes the outdoors, which is a plus, as we can push her into the garden whenever she’s causing too much chaos in the house. She likes to play in the sandpit, which is more like a waterpit in the winter, and transfer the said water onto the patio with her watering can. Then she likes to smoosh it around with her hands.
Her love is colossal. If anyone else in the family touches me, she runs over and tries to pull them off me, with a loud ‘MY MUMMY’!. This can get awkward in bed when she elbows her way between Mr M&H and I.
This week she’s got two weeks off from nursery with the Easter hols, so I’m going to attempt to potty train her while we’re all together in the house. It’s earlier than Mole and Hedgehog, but she’s doing plenty on wee’s on the potty, so I’m sensing that she’s ready. This morning we started well, but then she insisted on wearing her nappy again, and now she’s going around in a crocodile outfit, that is not exactly potty-in-an-emergency friendly. I don’t really have the energy anymore. It’s important to pick your battles as they say. Reckon I’ll sit here with my coffee for a bit. Ahhh.
Happy Easter everybody.