Love at First Bite

Lola lights me up from within. Her chubby-cheeked, crinkly-eyed, beaming grin makes me smile all over. I often find myself simply gazing at her in glee, topping up some unseen internal happiness reservoir with pure delight at her delicious babyness.

She is by no definition a fragile or delicate little girl - at 15 months she stands a few centimetres taller than her sister did at the same age, and is about the size of the average 2 year old. She pounds around on her sturdy frame with focussed haste, often ricocheting off furniture and walls as she jostles through the house, determined not to be left out of anything. With arms held backwards she propels herself around at top speed; her verandah like poddy tummy acting as no major impediment to this streamlining effect.

Lola alternates between being my shadow, following me around with arms raised saying "up, up, up", and trailing her sister like Mary's lamb. She wants to do everything Eva does -she'll sit beside her at the table, banging a crayon on paper while Eva draws, or climb up into the reading chair with a book, just as she has watched her big sister do. Of course she can't join in with many of Eva's big-girl pursuits, such as jigsaw puzzles, complicated block castles or making crocodiles from egg cartons and after being turned away (by means of not so gentle squeezes and cries of "oh noooo! you nasty cheeky baby!" from Eva), will proceed to throw wobbly fits and deliver parting shots at Eva or her toys with her chubby open palms.

Like her mother, Lola is passionate about food. Questions such as "are you hungry Lola?" or "would you like a banana?" are greeted with a great deal of lip smacking, ''nom, nom, nom" sound effects and a brisk toddle to the kitchen where she proceeds to open cupboards or pull ambitiously on the fridge door in her quest for nourishment. At the very sound of the utensil drawer being opened or a plate being laid on the table she will reach for the doorknob chanting "door, door, door!" in a frantic attempt to get into the kitchen.  She'll then bustle busily past me to the cupboard where she pulls out a bowl then clambers up to the table in eager anticipation of a meal. 

I take great pleasure in cooking for my family and love nothing more than to see the girls get excited about food. Lola's reaction particularly warms my nurturing mummy heart when she gasps with joy, complete with a look of  appreciative surprise at whatever is placed in front of her. Although we are attempting to school our daughters in the finer points of table etiquette, I must admit to taking a gleeful pride in watching Lola abandon her spoon in favour of shoveling the food in by the handful then licking the bowl clean. We have dubbed her the seagull as she will often swoop in and take off with Eva's toast crusts or pilfer her sister's morning tea out from under her very nose. 

Eva is already a great help when I'm cooking, enjoying being my "little chef" in training, I can only imagine that Lola's appetite will make her an equally enthusiastic helper. I look forward to many happy occasions spent in the kitchen, cooking and feasting with my girls and relating endearing tales of a ravenous little gobble guts who fell in love with food at first bite.

Dangly Legs & Falling Apples

She is one of my biggest sources of joy and wonder, coming to life with a frenzy of activity and noise from the moment she opens her eyes in the morning. We no longer need an alarm clock, instead we are woken at around 6am by Eva's footsteps beating a path along the floorboards to our bedroom. She then proceeds to clamber over us like a sleepy mountain goat before stealing my pillow and telling me to "move over". On the odd occasion she will fall back to sleep, allowing us to do the same but mostly the moments of blessed pre-waking silence are brief, and we are elbowed and kneaded by fidgety, bony limbs and jostled into action by urgent whispers of "it's time to get up...it's not night-time anymore".

At 3 years old, Eva is energy in motion; a tousle-haired tornado, a whirling windmill, a chattering, giggling, sparkling ball of sunshine. She makes friends with other children at the drop of a hat and loves to make others laugh. She has certainly inherited her mother's bossy gene (and sometimes the grumpy cow gene too, Jaime would likely add!) and likes to instruct us on everything from how to make breakfast to where we should hide during a game of hide and seek.

One of her greatest pleasures is still reading. We visit the library each fortnight where we borrow about 20 books, combine these with the 100+ books on her shelves at home and you would think we wouldn't read the same story twice. Wrong. It's become common practice to read 5 books at night time, and countless others during the day (with books that are becoming increasingly longer). Along with this we have somehow been duped into the "tell me a story" ritual once the last book has been put down, usually on a topic of Eva's choice such as "Eva and the disappearing pillow" or "Eva and the magic light bulb". She has recently been contributing to these stories or correcting us if our make-believe characters aren't doing what she thinks they should, but she still seems content to roll over and go to sleep even if the words "and that's the end of the story" come at some unlikely point in the tale.

Speaking of beliefs, Eva has become wise to our parental short-cuts and has called us out on a few occasions. I can no longer resort to the oft-used phrase of "I don't know" in response to her multitude of seemingly pointless questions. Her recent reaction, "'I don't know' is not the truth" now requires us to provide more detailed information which is not always easy when we really don't know the answer!

Eva started ballet in December, after a few attempts at different group sporting classes failed to spark her interest. She has surprised me with how focussed she is with her dancing, even though it's only just skipping and prancing at this stage, she is very attentive and tries hard to mimic the movements of her teacher.

A prolific artist, Eva also loves to draw and paint and has become very talented at creating some fabulous works of art, depicting a variety of long-legged, crazy haired, eyelash fluttering people, usually accompanied by stories to explain features such as spotty tongues, green eyes or no pants. We often put her to 'work' drawing special pictures in the birthday cards of friends and family, a task which she sets herself to with almost production line efficiency.

She is an affectionate little girl, often delivering kisses on our arms or legs as she passes by, or launching herself at us for big squeezy, dangly-leg cuddles. We often hear the endearing phrases of "I love you mummy/daddy", "You're beautiful mummy" or "you're the best Daddy in the world", and even though these are sometimes pronounced with crafty timing when we've been cross with her, they are mostly spontaneous and utterly heart-melting.

We have also glimpsed the undoubtedly turbulent future behavior of such a headstrong and hot-blooded personality. On the occasions where she has been told off for some transgression or other, we have heard "you're the worst Daddy in the world!", "you're NOT my friend!" or "Lola's a nasty baby!" as she whirls on her heel and marches out of the room.

I don't want to ponder too long over what lies ahead, after all, Eva is my daughter and the apple appears to have fallen very close to the tree.

I can only write so many words and take so many photos as every age and stage is sure to be a wonder, every minute filled with moments passing in a wink. I can't bottle the feeling of lifting her half-grown, long-legged, little girl body into my arms or capture the moments that reduce her to infectious babbling-brook giggles. I can only feel the here and now and hope today stays with me always.

Trading places with Sisyphus

There are many things in life that I savour - my husband, food, my girls, wine, my dogs, eating, my friends, cooking, my bed, sleeping....

Shattering this hedonist illusion I have to admit that I don't relish the many futile and thankless tasks that are frequent byproducts of the people and things I love the most. I would go so far to say that I would sometimes gladly trade places with Sisyphus and his rock.

In an attempt at being more mindful, I am resolving to not sweat the small stuff and remind myself that things are rarely as bad as I imagine.

This blog will hopefully help me to linger a little longer in the present, while making light of relentless busywork and day to day calamities. It will also be undoubtedly filled with many references to food, wine and the delectable joys of a clever husband and two frolicsome little girls.

"Worry is wasting today's time cluttering up tomorrow's opportunities with yesterday's troubles" -unknown