Our Terrorist

C is at a point now where he likes to destroy things. He has become our little terrorist intent on the destruction of our home. As he moves through the rooms he leaves a trail of displaced objects behind him like the wake of a cyclone.

His favourite game is to open the kitchen drawers and pull everything out of them. He unwinds the bin liners and crinkles the alfoil, he unfolds all the tea towels and chews on the stash of takeaway menus, strewing everything around him in chaotic delight. But he doesn't limit his fun to drawers. Unfolding clean washing and tipping over bins also feature highly on his fun radar. He also enjoys following me around, a little slap of hands and knees on the floor behind me. When I settle in one spot he finds the nearest drawer, cupboard or bin and goes at it.

Its very nice for him to explore everything but at times I get sick of tidying up the same things over and over again. When I want to get something done without a mess trail behind me I find myself behaving like there is a stalker with bad intentions in the house. I plan my movements for when I know he isn't watching. I make a dash to the kitchen, peering out the door to check I haven't been spotted fleeing. I start on the dishes, making as little noise as possible so as not to alert him to the fact that I have gone. But its just a matter of time and when he realises I'm no longer nearby he starts the hunt. "Ooh", he calls, "Where are you?" If I dont answer him he starts searching. He goes from room to room pausing in each doorway, ''Ooh!" As I hear him approaching, the dishes just half done I experience something similar to panic and shut the door, hoping to deter him him a bit longer. But he arrives, hears me inside and starts calling with earnest "Ooh, oooh", "Mum I'm here, why wont you play with me?"

And how can I resist that cheeky grin and those sparkly eyes. So the stalker settles back into his terrorism role and sets to work on the kitchen this time uncovering a treasure chest - the tupperware cupboard.

Oh what a mess...but oh what bliss!

Poo

M doesn't deal with poo. He has a hyperactive gag reflex that is triggered by the sight and smell of most bodily excretions. He doesnt do pooey nappy changes, if he did I would be left with not just shit, but a pool of vomit to clean as well. How convenient for him.

I am not so squeamish. There is no room to be, I have no choice but to deal with Cs poo almost every day. Most days its ok, I manage to disattach from the sight and smell. But even I have my limits.

This week I have the flu and everything is more difficult. Just taking care of Cs daily needs has been wearing me out. Feeding, bathing and dressing him is enough for me, never mind the cooking and cleaning. Yesterday I was building energy to do the dishes. Ready to go I realised C has pooed which needed to be dealt with immediately as it had already leaked from the cloth nappy and into his clothes. The second poo already that day, and in cloth nappies, I was in no mood. My headache, drippy nose and tiredness weren't helping

I whipped off his clothes, cleaned him and stuck the cloth nappy under the shower to rinse. That sounds very spritely but in truth I was dragging myself around, snuffling and grumbling. I left C nuddy on the couch while I grabbed nappy number three. Of course he doesn't stay still on the changing mat these days and when I returned he was sitting up, happily chewing the remote control and shitting all over the couch. Not just on the top, but down the cracks between the cushions.

I wont even write anymore, the next twenty minutes were not my finest. Trying not to lose it with C (its not his fault he's not toilet trained and was without a nappy) but fuming at the situation, I grabbed a disposable nappy and put him in it (I finally realised that cloth nappies and sick mothers don't go well). I plonked him in another room to prevent him messing with the the shit and chemicals I would have to use to clean it.

Various disinfectants and scrubbing brushes and buckets of water later the couch was reasonable again. I however was beat. The dishes would have to wait for another day.

twenty five

With my birthday approaching M was a bit worried. He didn't know how to do birthdays. He doesnt like birthdays, doesnt celebrate his own, but understood that I would expect something to commemorate arriving at the quarter century. What girl doesn't like presents! I assured him that any gesture would be appreciated - flowers, chocolate, whatever, but as he had to work and go to uni on the day I wasnt expecting much.

The day before my birthday M arrived home unexpectedly early, struggling through the front door with arms full of presents. He then took me to a lovely Japonese restaurant. The next day he arrived late as expected but with flowers and chocolates. All in all I was very spoilt. If he doesnt know how to do birthdays he is certainly good at improvising!

Advice

Brazilian culture is very warm and open. This is a lovely quality in many ways. In others it drives me mad.

Every older woman in the street thinks she has the right to tell me how to look after C. When he is sleeping in the ergo carrier people peer down the top and ask if he's not suffocating inside. People comment on the weather then touch him to check if he is too cold or hot. Ooh, he has a bit of cradle cap. Have you put ointment and scrubbed? He's got hiccups, you need to put a red dot on his forehead to get rid of them. Its windy, he should be inside.

I will not let my only child die against my chest. I will not leave him to get too cold or too hot. I will not put cream in his hair to dissolve the skin on his head. I will not decorate him to prevent hiccups. I don't believe a bit of wind will kill him. And its not your business to touch my child!

Maybe these things happen in Australia too, maybe everywhere in the world those more experienced feel the need to share their wisdom with the young and stupid. But the young and stupid need to learn by themselves, and often wont accept the superstitions of other generations.

Advice sought is advice heeded, advice given from strangers is more often than not a pain in the ass.

Note. I just reread this and its quite bitter! Its an accumulation of 7 months of interference by doddery old chooks. Advice from loved ones (nearly) always welcome.

Visiting

In a couple of weeks my parents will arrive for their first visit in Brazil. They will stay almost a month.

There are many Brazilian things that I am excited for them to experience; a trip from Rio down the beautiful mountainous coast including a visit to a tropical island and a quaint historical town; a traditional brazilian barbeque with the extended family; the municipal market here in Sao Paulo brimming with all things delicious and of course some time in our beach house.

But mostly it will be great to have some babysitters for a month! Just kidding. The most exciting thing for me is to share my wondrous baby with my wonderful parents who have only seen him through skype since he was six weeks old. I cant wait for them to see the funny way he collapses when he goes to sleep. No lying down for him, he falls down, once even fell asleep sitting up. The way he squeals and flaps his little arms when he gets excited about something. His cute fluffy hair after bathtime. The way he brrrms with his lips when he's grumpy. He's enough entertainment for a month without even leaving the flat!

Drinking it in

C spends a lot of time with his tongue out of his mouth. Not just a cute pink tip popping out the corner, but a wide open mouth with tongue fully extended towards his chin like the yoga pose, just missing the crossed eyes. He takes after his aunty didi in having a rather large tongue.

My mum thinks its a because babies learn about things with their mouths, so an open mouth and extended tongue is a way to drink in experiences.

C started doing it any time he was the wind. I joined him one time and learnt that it does indeed create an interesting sensation as the saliva dries and your mouth cools down (I bet everyone of you will find yourself one windy day with your tongue out, just to see)

From the reactions of everyone around him he soon learnt that it was a very amusing habit and started to show his tongue to anyone who cared to look at him. Its very entertaining to see perfect stangers with their tongues outstretched in imitation of C. In the supermarket and on the train he leaves a wake of protruding tongues behind him.

I'm sure soon he will grow out of this habit and into another one, but for the time being its lovely to watch him open minded, open hearted and open mouthed, learning about his world.

To gain or not to gain

We have been offered $1500 to put C in a catalogue for a toyshop.

The big blue eyes and blonde fluffy hair are a novelty here. People stand in front of the pram in supermarkets, preventing escape and say Que olhao! Ele vai fazer sucesso hein! Check out those eyes! He's going to be a success!

Hmmm...

You can imagine that working for an NGO in South America doesnt pay very well....you can also imagine that the cost of living in this big city is high...and having a baby implies extra costs...

But you can imagine that the baby modelling world must be an awful place, full of desperate mums and tired kids. Full of competition, brown nosing, crying, lights, fashion. Imagine.

Votes - to gain or not to gain?

PS. If C makes money its not going into a college fund, its going into a holiday or some interior design for the apartment!