Blonde boy

Music = even more ace

We are a routine family, there's no doubt about it. Ari eats, sleeps, bathes and reads by a fairly strict schedule - not that we're looking at the clock every second of the day, just that I happen to be one of those people who think children thrive on routine. Well, Ari does anyway.
I've considered the downsides of this - that he may never adapt to life at child care, kinder, etc, that he won't cope when we travel (he always does). But the upsides always seem to win.
One of the bits of the routine is that one parent bathes Ari while the other does the dishes. And to this part, we always have a loud soundtrack. We toyed with the idea of playing all of our CDs, going right through from A-Z, but considering how many we have, this seemed absurd.
And so our bathtime music is as random as can be, spanning from Bjork to U2 and everything in between. Lately it's been a lot of Arcade Fire (do yourself a favour if you haven't bought their CD. Wow).
Inevitably, Tom Waits features a lot. So much so that Ari, at the ripe old age of 2, can spot a Tom Waits growl instantly. He doesn't have a favourite Waits period or album yet, but with his father's encouragement, I'm sure by he's five he'll be requesting Rain Dogs over Swordfishtrombones.

Reading = ace

If you ever had any doubt that reading is wonderful (and I'm sure you actually haven't), the impact books have on a toddler will convince you forever.
From his vast collection of (mostly secondhand) books, Ari has learned so many words and phrases.
From a book called Grandpa and Thomas by the wonderful Pamela Allen, he learnt how to say "Me too!" and now says it with gusto at every opportunity. Ditto "Looka looka" (from the seagulls in the book) and "paddle paddle".
He can wheel out words like volcano, caterpillar and triceratops, all thanks to books.
We read to Ari twice a day, usually 3-5 books per session. There's no hard and fast rules on how many books, but we always finish with his alphabet book - and this is already paying off, as he's spotting letters on number plates and signs.

More bloody jeans

There are lots of things that change when you have a baby. And I'm not just talking about the (extremely) limited social life, or the fact that you find yourself driving along humming the theme to Thomas the Tank Engine (oh, woe is me).
There are the physical changes no one tells you about. In my case they were:
1. Half your hair falls out (breastfeeding)
2. Boobs unrecognisable (breastfeeding again); and
3. Strange dark blemishes on your face (called cloasma, or "the mask of pregnancy", which I think sounds far more dramatic).
I add to this list: You need to buy new jeans all the damn time.
I think I've gone through about six pairs of jeans in two years. At first it was due to changing sizes - from maternity back to regular jeans.
But then emerged a pattern - all the knees in my jeans would be out before I could even wear the damn things in. My latest pair, bought only about four months ago, just developed a little knee hole yesterday.
It's the constant kneeling down to pick up things, pick up Ari, dress Ari, bath Ari, etc, that has created this problem, of course.
So I either accept the fact this is going to happen and shell out $100 or more every four months, or hope like hell that little knee patches come back into fashion.

Great thoughts on life...

My favourite quote in the world is one I have pinned up on my toilet door:

"If you know exactly what you are going to do, what is the point of doing it?"
Pablo Picasso

Today I finally found my favourite other quote on the web:

"Without music to decorate it, time is just a bunch of boring production deadlines or dates by which bills must be paid."

Frank Zappa.

A weekend away

We have just returned from our first weekend away since having Ari, almost 2.5 years ago. (If you think that's unusual, all you childless folk, think again. We were fortunate enough to have someone willing to look after him for 2 nights - a lot of couples aren't that lucky!)
The destination: Hobart. The occasion: a friend's wedding.
It was a wonderful weekend, full of all the things you don't get to do once a little one arrives: linger in a bookshop, read the papers for hours over many coffees and big breakfasts, sleep in past 7am.
The wedding itself was great too, but the sheer liberation of only having to worry about ourselves for 2 whole days was fantastic.
Of course coupled with this was the inevitable: We missed our boy like crazy. Every single child I saw gave me a little pang inside.
He had a wonderful time staying with his Nanny and Poppy in Geelong and apparently never asked for us once. Even when he arrived home yesterday, he seemed nonplussed by the whole thing. He is such a good boy.

PS: Photos coming. Have been very busy and have barely been able to post, let alone load pics onto blogger. Stay tuned...