Ruby has resolve

Ruby is very direct communicator.  She doesn’t pussy-foot or dance around issues.  Maybe when she gets a bit older that will change as she realises some things in life require a bit of nuance.

But for now, if she’s tired, she rubs her eyes.  If she wants to go outside, she climbs into the stroller.

And if she wants you to wake up at 5 o’clock in the morning, she will grab your arm and use all her body weight to pull you up and out of the bed.  If that doesn’t work, she applies the same strategy to a fistful of your hair.  And if that doesn’t work, you get what I like to call “the Ruby Special”: tiny fingers pinching and pulling your eyelids up.

She’s a determined little thing who goes out and gets what she wants.  She has resolve, which is really inspiring.  It reminds me that if I want something, all I have to do is physically assault someone at 5am.

Toy piglets in a teacup and other useful things

I perused a local toystore catalogue today. It’s not something I usually do. I can’t imagine buying brand new toys for Ruby when there are millions of perfectly good, gently used toys waiting in OpShops to be re-homed with a child who has no clue they were pre-owned.

Ruby’s not a typical kid when it comes to toys.  Her toybox is full of odd secondhand toys I couldn’t resist.  A prime example:

A five-fingered hand-puppet thing. A real time-saver for people who can't be fussed with individual finger puppets.

She doesn’t even have a babydoll, unless you count a bald babydoll head on a stick wand my friend Jim made that I used a segment about motherhood in my other friend Jen’s comedy show, “How’s Wife?”.

Sinead O'Connor, eat your heart out!

So as I thumbed through this catalogue full of plastic junk fresh off the boat from China, I was shocked (and delighted) by the ludicrosity of the toys I found. They were so ridiculous that I had to invent the word ludicrosity to accurately describe them.

By the time I turned the last page of the catalogue, I was so overwhelmed with fear that Ruby may someday demand one of these toys that I immediately burned it. Fear not, dear Reader, I scanned a few of these gems first:

Who says you can't buy friends! Btw, you should totes buy Stephanie's convertible. It's 'cool'!

We work so hard to convince our children to bathe on a regular basis, and then we buy them toys that glorify trash. Where are the 'Recyclies' or 'Composties' that glorify sustainable living? Walter the Worm, Beer Bottle Betty, Newspaper Ned?

The loneliness of a puppet best friend and the comfort of a Snuggie. I sense a future career as a Spinster Ventriloquist. Someone should buy her some friends(tm).

You can't honestly expect me to believe Barbie would actually wash her puppies herself and not take them to an elite Boutique Puppy Spa. Also, I wouldn't recommend hugging and washing puppies at the same time.

Tell me who DOESN'T need a tiny bottle-fed pig in a teacup. No one, that's who!

Don't buy these. They're plain stuffed animals which makes them incredibly boring and pitiful.

 

 

Ruby. Honestly.

It’s impossible for me to communicate to you how much I love Ruby. My brain can’t even begin to compute the sheer volume of her amazingness. Every day I wake up in absolute wonderment that this tiny beautiful creature is in my life.

But sometimes she drives me totally nuts.

She takes great pleasure in taking her bottle and pushing the nipple on the floor until milk/water/juice freely flows onto the floor. Yeah yeah, I know what you’re thinking: She’s so clever to have figured out how to do that! Einstein was a genius, but I bet you a million bucks he drove his mother bonkers with all that intelligence.

She also has a very loose attitude towards swallowing her food. She is notorious for chewing a few bites then for some (completely unknown) reason she spits it out. She doesn’t find a plate or bowl to spit it in. She doesn’t suck it up and swallow it anyway. She doesn’t even warn me she’s about to do it. After swallowing bite after bite of something, she’ll suddenly, mid-chew, expel it from her mouth. Why Ruby? WHY?

To even things out, I need to offset this whinging blogpost with an adorable photo. Here it is.

Ruby's new boots

Daddy torture: reason #1 to have a baby

One of the best reasons to have a baby is so you can use her to torture her father. I taught her to give her dad a “tummytummy”, which is where she lifts his shirt and aggressively slaps his stomach. Similarly, the command “honkhonk” prompts her to squeeze his nose (and often the noses of everyone in the room).

A few days ago I realised Ruby had discovered her own teeth and would stick her finger in her mouth and point to them when I asked to see them. I seized this opportunity to further antagonize Chris by instructing her to go find her daddy’s teeth. She ran into the other room, and a few seconds later I hear “Ruby, get your finger out of my mouth!”. Priceless!

Let me know if you have any other ideas for other things I can teach Ruby that involve torturing her dad, and I’ll give them a shot.

Beach combers

Ruby: the human dictionary

Inspired by my friend Zelda’s blog, I’ve decided to dedicate this post to all the wonderful words Ruby is now saying!

Bubba (baby)

Daddy

Mama

Kitty

Puppy

Key

Yummy

Bye

Hi

Car

BeepBeep

Kai

Nana (banana)

Eye

Tickletickle

Ok

No

Moo

Woof

Oink

Roooaaar

Quackquack

One

Two

Ear

Hiss

Fast

Go

Ta

Outside

Oh wow

Shoe

Pasta

Pizza

She seems to understand most of what we’re saying, and we’re gobsmacked at how quickly she can understand the meaning of new words.  Within a matter of hours she can identify a new library book simply by hearing the keywords in the title (“Ruby, go get your book about dinosaurs and dogs”).

What I’m basically saying is that Ruby’s a baby genius.  This is my objective opinion based on unbiased observations.

 
Yellow!

Break on through to the other side

Let’s say you decide to move to another country, to uproot your entire existance in one place and re-plant(?) that existance in another similar (yet oh so very different) country.  Imagine what that entails: quit job, sell nearly all possessions, cancel utilities, rent house out then move and get flat, connect utilities, buy nearly all possessions, get job.  It’s a palindrome of stress.

Now let’s say you decide to move to another country with a toddler, which looks a little something like this: quit job, remove child from daycare, sell nearly all possessions, purge all accumulated clothes and toys, rent house out, cancel utilities then move and get job that is family friendly and lets you work fewer hours per week, enrol child in daycare, apply for childcare benefit so it doesn’t cost a freaking fortune, buy nearly all possessions, get flat that either has outdoor space or is very close to a park, connect utilities, entertain demanding and impatient child while trying to accomplish all previous tasks.   It’s a cacophony of stress.

I’m happy to report I can see a light at the end of the tunnel.  Right now Ruby is in daycare with a lovely woman who lives within 5 minutes of our flat.  I found a job with a family friendly employer.  We got a flat near an awesome park, heated pool and toy library (The flat itself is another story.  My next post will discuss why you should never let desperation lead your search for a flat). 

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind of insanity, so it’s nice to start feeling a bit more settled.  Before long life will be normal* again.

*well, normal for me, if yaknowwhatImean.

Give me a (holiday) break!

Before you have children, your friends with kids keep bits of vital information to themselves, probably out of fear that if they tell you what they know you’ll refuse to ever have children.  Of course it’s in their best interest to keep their mouths shut because hey, misery parents loves company.

So anyway, the point: on that LONG list of things they don’t tell you is that once you have kids THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A HOLIDAY BREAK ANYMORE EVER EVER EVER.  No more reading books all day.  No more sleeping in.  No more whimsy.  No more drinking that second bottle of wine.  It’s over.  Over.  (Over!)

I spent the vast majority of my holiday break chasing a toddler.  Whether it was here at home, in the park, on a ferry, in a bach, or on a beach.

But this is the new reality.  An unchangeable, in your face, no turning back, lost the receipt and can’t return the baby, reality.  And while part of me laments the loss of the ‘old days’ when I could do whatever I damn well pleased 24/7/365, another big part of me loves the new reality.

Because now, holiday breaks include a super cute tiny person who makes all the chasing worthwhile.

Ruby enjoying her first homemade popsicle
Ruby's first popsicle

Learning to skip stones with her dad
Learning to skip rocks

Getting fresh with a boy (cue ‘Summer Lovin’)
First kiss!

 

Moving on up…to the East Side

If you think about it, Melbourne is on the east side of Australia.  Though if I’m honest, I’m always looking for ways to incorporate Jeffersons’ references into my life.

In case that previous sentence didn’t spell it out for you (how could it?), we’re moving to MELBOURNE.  For those of you who think I already live in Australia, you’re wrong.  I live in New Zealand.  There’s a difference.

Busy planning world dominationHere’s Ruby looking up flights to Melbourne.

My husband has decided to go back to school and was accepted into a programme in Melbourne.  So in 8 weeks we’re off to throw another shrimp on the barbie!  Yes, I’m hoping all Australians are exactly like the stereotype.  If I hadn’t already named Ruby Ruby, I would’ve named her Bindy*.

The idea of packing up and moving to a new place makes me feel excited terrified thrilled scared stressed a lot of things.  Guess there’s not much I can do now but put my head down and get a bajillion things done between now and February.  

Don’t worry, I’ll keep you posted on my progress.  Blogging is therapeutic, and I’ll need somewhere to go to vent.  I pulled enough of my hair out after Ruby was born.

*not really

Christmas in Featherston

My friend Emma lives in Featherston in a cute, old house.  She and her betrothed are heading up north for the holidays and invited friends to stay at their place while they’re gone.  Uh YES PLEASE.

So on Christmas Eve after Chris finishes work, we’ll pack up the Rubes and other essential items and head over the Rimutakas for a few days of relaxation, which will include:

  • leisurely walks around Featherston, population 2,340
  • bush walks in the Rimutakas
  • splashing in the local swimming hole
  • slow (but not too slow) drives to nearby towns
  • eating
  • entertaining Ruby
  • reading
  • internetting
  • general lounging
  • sleeping (take note Ruby)

The last time I was in Featherston I noticed they had a small supermarket, a fish and chip shop, a cafe, a liquor store and a shop that sells wiccan supplies and all things to do with witchcraft.  What more could you ask for?

Will post pics of my new broom in a future post.
Merry Christmas!
I am hopeful Ruby will be in a better mood on Christmas this year.

2011: The year of the honey bunny

When Ruby was born Chris and I immediately and strangely assigned her the same term of affection we have for each other (honey and bunny, respectively).  What a lovely coincidence to learn 2011 was the year of the rabbit!

On a side note: We also have a series of nicknames for her: booby, rubes, rubix cube, rubester, rubicon, ruru (Maori for ‘morepork’ which is a kind of kiwi owl), hey you, no-no-no, stop-stop-stop, etc.

In the spirit of all the bloggers out there (I’m looking at you Merrilee) who do those year-in-review blogposts, here’s mine!

I always knew 2011 would be a pretty massive year.  In retrospect it was a cakewalk compared to last year.  I like to refer to 2010 as the year we became irreversibly domesticated.

38 weeks pregnant/crazy

In 2010:

  • We rang in the new year in Beijing
  • We found out I was pregnant
  • We bought a house
  • In my 2nd month of pregnancy (when I felt the most morning sickness) I co-produced and performed in a comedy show, Laugh Experiences with two comedian-lady-friends.
  • In my 4th month of pregnancy, I performed in two more comedy shows with even more comedian-lady-friends (Laugh Experiences and Improv Divas)
  • Chris and I went on holiday to Australia.  It was our last big hurrah so to speak before “she” got here.
  • I gave birth to you know who and spent the remainder of 2010 climbing up the steepest learning curve in my life (I’m proud to say we all survived!)

If 2010 was a year of big life changes, 2011 was the year we settled into those changes.

Family portrait

In 2011:

  • Chris and I became dual citizens (for those intellectually challenged that’s Kiwi and American)
  • I made my return to the stage with a cameo as the “Fairy Godmother of Motherhood” in my friend Jen‘s first solo show “How’s Wife?”
  • Ruby made her first trip to America to charm the socks off of everyone she met (not by herself)
  • Chris and I survived over 9 flights and 50 hours of flying with an infant
  • Ruby survived her first year of life
  • I went back to work
  • Chris decided it was time to go back to uni and began applying to schools…in Melbourne (still waiting to hear back)

So if 2011 was the year of settling into big life changes, 2012 promises to be the year of unsettling into even more big life changes.

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