Happy 23rd Month Birthday, Bunny!

Whoopy doo boo-boo! You’re 23 months old, bunny-buns! Happy Birthday! Golly gosh, the time is whizzing by at top speed, isn’t it? You’ll be 2 years old in a few weeks time. Unbelievable, how you’ve popped up into a proper little man, all in the blink of an eye. All of a sudden whoooosh! I closed my eyes for a split second, and opened them again, and there you were, all grown up and everything. Sprouted into a full grown rabbit before my very eyes. Reading the paper and everything.

You haven’t started talking yet, only a few barely discernible words, at random moments. You can say “mama”, but never on demand, only when you are very upset and want me to do something for you, like give you more squash. You go mad for squash, despite the fact that you’ve been eating a whole butternut squash every day for almost a year. One would think you’d be sick of the sight of it, but oh no, not my bun-buns. Orange squash is your middle name.

Your latest food craze is steak. Not just any old steak but the super-duper expensive top sirloin grass-fed organic kind. You can chow down a large steak in no time at all. Almost as much as auntie scoffs in one sitting, and she’s a LOT bigger than you. Very impressive, bun-buns. I don’t know where you pile the pounds, because you definitely ain’t no porker bunny. More of a lean, mean, rabbit machine.

Sadly, I’ve had to take you off the turkey and chicken. Sorry about that, but you were having a reaction to them. Could be a gluten thing, I’m not sure. Could be corn or soy related. Who knows? I’m still untangling the complexities of these multiple food intolerances and allergies, with great dismay. I’m afraid I’m not really any nearer to the bottom of things, bunny, but I’m determined to help you heal.

I’ve more or less weaned you off the boobs. It’s been mighty hard going, but so far we’ve done 5 days on the trot, and this time I’m not giving in for love or money. You’ve been screaming blue murder in the middle of the night, and waking me in the wee hours of the morning by kicking and punching my back and belly, desperate for milkies. A most unpleasant way to start the day, but I forgive you.

And I will not relent.

It’s for your own good, boo-boo. We’ve been nursing around the clock for nigh on 2 years, and I’d go longer, but I really want to help you and my milk is no good, boo-boo. These days it always makes you sick. So milkies have gone bye-byes, bunny. But it doesn’t mean I love you any less.

We’ve been traveling about again this month. Your mama’s got ants in her pants. Restless mama. We went to New Mexico again, only a week after we’d just got back from there. No sooner had we landed in San Francisco, then we turned and headed back to the mountains. Crazy, huh? It was still snowing over there, so we had to break out the itchy wool underwear, and the duck down snow suits.It was big-time snow, bun-buns.

At first you hated it, but now and then you started to get into the whole idea . Like when we went sledding for the first time, that was a good wheeze wasn’t it?

And keeping the paths clear. You like to make yourself useful these days, anything mama is doing is what you want to do.

 

But listen, bunny, I’ve got something important to tell you. There’s a reason we keep going back to New Mexico. Your mama has decided that we are going to move there. Yes, that’s right, it’s a big decision, and I’m not taking it lightly. I know it’s a big change from  the gentle suburbs of Mill Valley. I want you to know that I’ve put a lot of thought into this move. I’m not happy here in Californa. And if I’m not happy, then you’re not going to be happy. I want us to live in a place that has soul and spirit. A wildly creative place where we can feel the elements on our skin and where we can connect deeply with the community.

 A place were we can saddle up and go horse riding every day…

 

 

 And lounge in the hot tub after a hard days hiking and skiing in the mountains…

New Mexico has charm. It has character. It has beauty. It has diversity. It has culture. It has mountain lions, coyotes, bears and wolves. Yes, wolves. Not very many, but they are there. It’s still a wild and wooly place, boo-boo. And let me tell you, New Mexico has the most incredible sunrises and sunsets I have ever seen.

Hey, Bapu lives there too, and we might see a bit more of him when we live there. And I’ve found a great school for you there, with buffalo roaming on Indian Pueblo lands in the back, big mountains, and rustic adobe play structures. It’s going to be an adjustment, but I think you’re going to like it, bunny.  

Once upon a time, when you were just a twinkle in your mama’s eye, I used to live in New Mexico. I was happy there once. I think we can be happy there again.

 And if you’re not happy, sweet-pea, we’ll move again OK? Maybe to Hawaii. Or wherever you want.

Happy Birthday Buttons. I love you with all my heart and soul, more and more, every day, in every way.

All my love always,

Mummy xxxxxxxxx

 

Happy 22nd Month Birthday – Part 2

More news from the birthday month, bunny! December was a busy, action-packed time. I don’t know how we squished all that activity in without losing our minds.

We jetted back from Hawaii a week before Christmas, just in time for Papa to arrive. This was your second Christmas, and Papa wanted to share it with you. We queued up for over an hour to see Santa Claus, and as soon as you saw him you burst into tears and struggled to make your escape. I managed to stuff you in his arms using a teddy to pin you down, all in a split second, so we could get our money’s worth.

You weren’t a happy bun-buns. I’ve probably given you a Santa phobia for life.

Christmas day was more or less the same as it always is. Nanny in a depressed slump. Way too many presents and much too  much food. 

I tried to curb the presents this year. Over the past few months I’ve been thinning down your toys and books to the bare minimum, and didn’t want to have a whole fresh load of plastic, buzzing, flashing crap kicking about the house.

You actually got some pretty nifty, top quality gifts, but I’m thinking we might have to box some of them up for your birthday. Can’t have you being a spoiled bunny. There’s so many things to play with in the house, that I’m thinking of opening a toy shop, make a bit of money on the side. Save our pennies up for another holiday to Hawaii.

You seemed pleased with Olly the Dolly, and the multi-coloured snake that took Auntie forever-and-a-day to knit. You’ve been running around the house with Snakey in your paws, hissing “SSSsssss” and chewing on his button eyes. Nanny’s handmade knitted jumper, scarf and hat went down a treat too, although the mittens have been a bit more challenging. And Grandma K made you a lovely handmade activity book and a batik blue elephant, which I’m thinking we’ll call Nelly the Elly

I bought you this recycled cardboard house to muck about in, and a wooden train. I think you liked them. The tree itself was an endless source of entertainment. As far as you were concerned, that was the best present of all. I think you broke almost all the ornaments on the lower branches. In the end we had to put the tree on a table and put all the decorations around the top.

We managed to smoke the house out by trying to light the fire again. Just like last year. Bloody landlord lied when she said the chimney was OK was to use. We almost choked to death on the noxious fumes. Papa had to carry out the burning logs with his bare hands. It was a dodgy moment, but ended well. The next day we went to the beach. And the day after that, we shot off to New Mexico to see Bapu and Grandma K. and bring in the New Year.

Christmas has taken on a whole new light with you in my life, bun-buns. Suddenly the sparkly magic has come back. It’s a wonderful time for a child, and I can see it through your eyes now.  But all that aside, I think we might boycott Christmas next year. Go somewhere tropical and give money to save the rainforest, or help the homeless and run a soup kitchen. Something a bit more charitable is in order, rather than mindless consumerism and gluttony. We could have shared our turkey with a family of folk, and spread some of our good cheer to those who really need it.

What do you think? Shall we ask Santa to bring us only one present next year? We can still make it special, just you and me. Put the love back into Christmas, and fill it with true meaning.

Happy 2nd Christmas, boo-buns.

All my love always

Mummy xxxxxxxx

 

Happy 22nd Month Birthday, Bunny-Boo! Part 1

Ah, boo-boo bun-bears. It’s well past your 22nd month birthday, and your mama is back to being a late slacker on the post front. This past month has been the most frantically frenetic of all, and I’ve barely managed to catch my breath to blog. We’ve been all over the map in more ways than one. Papa’s been here for 3 whole record-breaking weeks, and I feel like we’ve just come out the other side of Hurricane Hectic. 

I can’t remember most of what we’ve been up to, but I can tell you that in the first half of December we went to Hawaii for 2 weeks with Nanny and Auntie, which is the 3rd time in one year. And then we went to visit Bapu and Grandma K. in Northern New Mexico for about 8 days. In between all of that we had Christmas with Papa for the first time. I’m gonna have to break this blog post up into bite size bits or else it will be WAY too long, bunny. 

First, Hawaii. The return of the tropical beach bunny! This time we went to Wailea on Maui. Never been there before. It was very manicured and unreal, not to mention built on ancient sacred grounds. Don’t think we’ll go there again. Bad mojo, boo-boo. Too many rich white folk and not enough indigenous local peeps. Didn’t seem right. 

But you didn’t care about all that. So long as you could trundle about in the sun and sea, and generally have a jolly good time. you were fine. You gave me a devil of a time getting that hat to stay put on your head, but believe me bunny, that hat saved your fine, fair head. You don’t have enough hair to cover your scalp, and sunburn on your nod would have been mighty unpleasant. 

Look at you dashing about in the waves – no fear! You came a cropper in the surf once or twice, but that didn’t stop you. You’re a budding surfer in the make, buttons. 

You even tried a bit of sea swimming, although it was a tad on the chilly side and you couldn’t stand it for very long. 

Every day, after the beach, you insisted on dragging us all to the hot tub, so you could lounge about in your blue ring… 

and splash about in the pool’s waterfall getting all that sting-salt off your body… 

Lounging about at the beach wasn’t a great success. It was better than last time though. You weren’t too keen about getting sand on your skin, but you didn’t complain too much and you even managed to pick up a spade on occasion. 

 

I tried to get you to sit still and play in one spot, but you weren’t having it. “Not blooming likely mum” said you. At least that’s what you’d probably have said, if you were talking yet, which you’re not. Did you know, late talking in toddlers is a sign of genius? Apparently Einstein didn’t talk until he was 3 years old, so take your time boo-buns. I’m not too worried about your silent ways now that I came across that nugget of information. 

Anyways, you might not be talking up a storm yet, but you sure can walk up a storm. Yup, you’re an active chappie alright. Everytime I sat down you for a rest on the beach, you wandered up over to the Grand Wailea to look at the big carp fishes and generally gave me a run for my money. 

Unfortunately this time, we had to give all that papaya and pineapple a miss. It was a strict squash, turkey and burger diet, with the odd bit of broccoli and celery thrown in. I introduced you to steak, which you wolfed down with great gusto. One sorrowful day I made the big mistake of taking you out to eat at a fantastic restaurant, where I gave you a pile of shredded kalua pork on a banana leaf. I must say, you were pretty nifty with those chopsticks and you made short work of that minced pork. 

The chef assured me it was free of gluten, dairy, corn, soy, nuts etc. but I think he lied. Either that, or you’re allergic to pork. The next day you broke out in a horrible rash, the red ring of doom made a butt appearance, followed by a whole slew of symptoms rearing their ugly heads, from sleeplessness to eczema to extreme neediness and general all-over upsetness. All in all, not a happy bunny. 

After that we went back to squash on the terrace. 

Listen, bunny. This food stuff is really a problem. I’m more or less at my wits end trying to get to the bottom of it.  We’ve practically weaned, and you still have symptoms. We can’t live like this. We have to heal your gut, sweet-pea. I’ll try and help you, but you gotta help me too, OK? I can’t figure this out on my own. 

Sorry, didn’t mean to rant on your birthday, bun-buns. It’s only ’cause I love you so much. Let’s get back to our hols in Hawaii… 

On the bright side, you might not be eating well, but you sure are sleeping well. You’ve finally slipped into a pattern of much longer naps, and much longer sleeps at night. You’re a restless bed mate, and I’ve got a fair few bruises where you kick and punch me in the night, but I am sooooo grateful that you’ve started to sleep like a baby. 

 

It’s made me a much happier mama. 

 

You’ve got a thing for the tropics, just like your mama. It’s in your blood. It’s a family thing. Auntie and Nanny have it too. 

Traveling with you to the warm seas and clear skies of lush Hawaii has been such a joy, bunny. We had the mostest fun in all of toddler travel land. I’m not even going to mention the flight. Let’s leave that dark blip in the background, shall we? I’m hoping that when you turn 3 that you’ll be more of a seasoned flyer and settled in your seat. Until then, I can put up with a bit of shenanigans in the air. 

I hope we have many more trips to the tropics together. I love traveling with you, broadening our horizons and experiencing different cultures. It’s good for us bunny. We belong in the world. We’re nomads, looking out to sea for our next big adventure. 

Happy belated birthday bun-buns. I love you so much it hurts. In a good way. 

All my love all ways / always 

Mummy xxxxxxxx

 

21 months old today bunny!

It’s December 1st, bun-chops, and your mama made it to the birthday post on time! Hippy hoppy happy birthday, bunny!

Gosh, this has been an aciton-packed month, not sure if I can squeeze it all into one blog, but I’ll give it a shot. You’re turning into a big rabbit, my boy. Yep, we’ve had some major milestones in the last week. It’s so exciting, I can hardly wait to tell you the good news… wait for it…. (trumpet fanfare) you slept for 10 hours straight this week!!! An all-time world record for you bun-buns. I can hardly believe it myself. I didn’t sleep at all myself of course, as I needed to keep checking to see if you were breathing or had fallen into a coma.

I didn’t want to count my chickens, in case it was a one-off freaky event. And sure enough the next night you didn’t sleep at all. BUT the next night after, and the night after that, you slept another whopping 9 hours a piece, without waking once!!! I think we’ve cracked the sleep thing, boo-boo. Mind you, you’re still waking me up at 5am which frankly, I could do without. If you could sleep in a little, teensy weensy bit later than that, then I’d be a very happy mama. 6am is good. I can live with that.

It’s all to do with the weaning thing. I finally managed to put you down to sleep this week (the night of the 10 hour marathon) without nursing you. All I said was “no milkies tonight” and “milkies go night-night” and after 2 minutes kicking and screaming, you rolled over and went straight out like a light. I must admit, I was a bit taken aback. I thought we’d have more of a struggle than that. I was surprised that you gave up on the boob so easily. Mind you, you haven’t quite given up the boob completely, but we’ve wittled it down to one nursing in the wee hours of the morning. I feel sad. I miss the connection. But I know it’s all part of the process of letting you grow up into an independent little rabbit. It had to happen one day.

The good news about weaning is that your health seems to be getting better on the food front, and I can keep a closer watch on what you eat and how you react. Which reminds me, the doctor’s results from the last stool and genetics test came through, and it turns out you are HIGHLY intolerant to gluten, casein and soy. Which we’d managed to figure out on our own, but what we didn’t know is that there’s a possibility you might have microscopic colitis. The docs want to do a biopsy for that, but I’m holding out until you’re a bit older.  I don’t know what it means yet, bunny, but I’ll look into it and watch out for you, OK?

Speaking of food, that reminds me, you’ve also become extremely adept with the ol’ spoon and fork this month. You can chow down a bucketful of lamb tenderloin and bok choy stew, and scoop up all the broth into your chops. You must be packing on the pounds with all this meat you’ve been devouring. Your feet have grown and we had to buy new shoes this month. But for some reason you’re still fitting into your 6 to 12 month clothes. I can’t understand it, but there you go.

Anyway. Onto the big adventures. Not only have we been cracking milestones this month, we also vastly increased your carbon footprint by jetting off to New Mexico to see Bapu and Grandma K., and we took Papa with us too. We had big fun in the desert. First stop Santa Fe. I used to live there, long ago when you were just a very distant twinkle in your mama’s eye. It was the first place I ever felt at home. I am still madly in love with the place. Land of Enchantment.

We went to Ten Thousand Waves spa, and lounged about in our own private tub. You were in and out of the cold plunge like an old dab spa hand. Not sure it was good for your eczema since you had a full blown attack after that, but it could have been down to those eggs and green beans you were eating too. Our strict diet kinda slipped on the road.

After a few days of Santa Fe styling, we cruised down south and did lots and lots of hiking around the Organ Mountains, at Bapu’s pad. You were a proper little trooper, trailblazing the way and steering well clear of the cacti and prickly bushes.

 

 I had trouble keeping up.

 You got into a bit of rock climbing.

And a bit of horsing around in the visitor’s centre.

You are also very handy with a broom these days. Here you are helping Grandma keep the cacti clean and tidy in the front yard.

One day we went to White Sands. It was like being on the moon after a heavy snowstorm. Completely inhospitable. You hated it. The wind was  biting cold and whipping white dust into your face, taking all your delicate skin off, stripped to the flesh and bone. But WOW. What about that sunset bunny? Not bad, eh?

Yep, we had bags of fun in Nuevo Mexico. And milkies taste so much better after a good long hike in the great outdoors, don’t you think?

Life with you just gets better and better. Happy birthday bunny, and happy trails. May we have many more happy adventures together in the wilderness of our lives.

All my love always

Mummy xxxxxxx

 

20 months old last month!

I’m way out of whack this month. Whole chunks of time are peeling past at a ferocious rate, and in a blink of an eye I’m gonna be a grandma with no teeth and skin like an old prune.

What I’m trying to say is, bunny-my-honey, I’m sorry to cock up your monthly birthday letter again. I desperately want to be able to log on pronto each and every month, and post cute photos of you, and write snappy, sappy sentences about how much you’ve grown, and how much I love you. But try as I might, I can’t seem to find neither time nor energy to put pen to ‘puter. I am juggling too many balls as a single mama, struggling with all kinds of shit that I don’t want to bend your ears with. It’s grown up ears stuff. Not for babies ears. I’ll put a sock in it now, and get on with this post.

Bun-buns! It was your 20 month birthday a few weeks ago! You were a whopping 20 months old! Wowee! It’s a biggie milestone for such a wee little baby, creeping closer and closer to the 2 year mark.

Weird thing is your face is filling out and getting more expressive, but your body is staying the same. Thanks to multiple food allergies and intolerances you haven’t been putting on much weight over the last few months. You’re still fitting into your 6 – 12 month old clothes that you were wearing last year. You’ve weighed in at 21 lbs for an absolute age. Everyone says what a big baby you are, but the reality is you are small for your age. It must be your big smile that throws them. You’ve got a big personality bun-buns.

You’re still trying to catch everyone’s eye and flirt with them, but now when someone smiles back, you pretend to be all shy and coy, and curl your head into my shoulder, or hide between my legs and peek out. You’re a darling little boy. Everyone says so. You’ve won many a heart.

You’ve got some new tricks up your sleeve. Like climbing on my back whenever I bend over. You love to dance, twirling around and around.  And singing. Old favourites like baa baa black sheep. You’re not quite talking, but you certainly make yourself understood. You’re big on kissing and hugging these days too. You’re mama’s little helper in the kitchen, sweeping, mopping, cleaning and “chopping” squash. I love that you get me my towel when I I’m coming out of the shower, or that you pass my glasses to me when I wake up in the morning. I’m not so keen on you picking up sticks and bashing everything in sight when we go for walks in nature, but then you are a boy after all.

You can be a bit of a monkey with the toilet roll.

Nothing in the house is safe or sacred anymore. I spend all my time putting books back on shelves, locating lost items like the car keys, and lamenting indelible pen marks all over my cream sofa.

On the food front, yes, we are still eating a ridiculously restricted diet of chicken, chard and squash for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Only now we’re doing a bit of beef and chicken aswell. Plus a few “new” vegetables have come into play. Cauliflower, broccoli, bok choy, celery and sometimes spinach are all on the plate at meal times, and so far you seem to be OK with that. You haven’t got to baseline with your symptoms. But the eczema and rashes are down right now, and you’ve been sleeping much better than ever before. We just need normal bowel movements please. And more sleep. Like, more than 3 hours would be a miracle.

This year we did Halloween. Not at home like last year, this time we went out trick or treating.  First we picked out pumpkins and carved them.

 Then we dressed up. You were a black cat. Possibly the cutest little black puddy cat in the whole world.

I was a witch, of course. I’m always a witch. It’s my day to come out of the broom closet.

We started off in good spooky spirits, but the novelty of soon wore off. We lasted less than an hour. It was a total nightmare. Zillions of greedy, hyper, sugar-crazed kids were rushing about wild-eyed, frothing at the mouth, clutching gigantic pillow cases chock full of candy loot, looking like they stepped out of a horror gangsta film. There was a frenzied frantic fanatical vibe permeating the air. Horrible. Truly frightful.

Fortunately you weren’t really interested in trick or treating. But you were quite fascinated with the moving, squawking, red eyes flashing raven in a fake graveyard in someone’s front garden. That’s your mama’s namesake there, bunny. Spooky, huh?

By then it was time to turn in for the night.  It was the end of another month of action-packed joy, fun and adventure with you, my precious little bunny. Not so much a bun-buns anymore, as a proper little boy, looking more and more like your papa as days go by. Im very glad to see that you definitely have my eyes. Big, intense hazel eyes. All the better to see you with.

I’ll do my best to be on time with your next letter bunny. I want us to remember these wonderful, fleeting moments together, forever. My heart is full of love for you, buttercup. Thank you for making my life worthwhile. I love you so much. ((((hugs)))))

All my love always

Mummy xxxxxxxxxx

 

19 months old today!

Happy 19 month Birthday, Bunny! I’m bang on time this month! Things didn’t slip to the wayside! I didn’t forget! I’m right here on the money!

Wow. We’ve been on this journey through life for 19 whole months, and what a ride it’s been. We’ve had the most fun. The most happiness. And a few scares along the way too. The biggest ups and downs. It’s been a bustling adventure. A bit of a bumpy ride at times, I’ll give you that, but the joy, the excitement, the exhilaration of being able to share my world with you, has made it all worthwhile.

I thank the Gods that you have such a sunny disposition coupled with a bright, curious spirit. Otherwise we wouldn’t be getting along so well. If you were a whining, moaning, sourpuss of a baby it wouldn’t be nearly so much fun hanging out on a daily basis. But thankfully the Gods were kind and blessed me with the best little bunny in the world.

However, all that being said, we are nearing into the “terrible twos” and you have been known to throw a tantrum or two. I’ve got a great gash across my left cheek where you slashed in with your nails in a hissy fit, and auntie has fresh bite marks in her arm where you gnashed down on her in a furious frenzy. Great gobs of my hair are missing too, you little blighter. I haven’t got enough hair as it is, so I’d appreciate it if you stuck to attacking my limbs. Better yet, beat it out on the cushions.

Things that really get you in a stew: anything that the grown ups won’t let you do. Like playing in the road with the cars. Or throwing large rocks at people’s heads. Or playing in the front seat of mummy’s car with the steering wheel and all the interesting buttons and levers. Woe befall nanny who started that car game with you. It’s turned into a right fiasco. Every time we go in the car, you have to have a go in the driver’s seat. End of story.

 

Yes, bun-buns, you like to have your own way. Willful little monkey, you are. Fiercely independent. And fearless too. You’re quite happy to trot off into the distance at the park, in the garden, without a glance behind you. You go right up to strangers (especially the pretty ladies) and introduce yourself with a smile, a pointed finger and a coy cock of your head.

When we’re not rushing about to swim class, music class, playgroup, or shopping,  you like nothing more than to spend hours in the back garden rummaging through the redwood undergrowth, poking into the woodpile where black widows dwell, throwing little sticks and stones into the stream. When we’re meandering about in nature, you like to give me things that you find. Bits of leaf. Poisonous red berries. Yesterday you brought me a piece of deer dung, like it was a precious bit of black gold. Very sweet. I’m thankful that you didn’t eat it, but on the other hand, maybe the bacteria would be good for building your intestinal gut flora?

Speaking of which, the food thing is still very much a struggle. You’re a good little eater, and most days you wolf down your squash, chicken and chard. But I’m having a devil of a time getting you to drink mama’s chicken bone broth. I don’t like it either but it’s good medicine bun-buns. We need those animal nutrients to heal that gut of yours.

That’s the diagnosis by the way. Leaky gut and candida overgrowth. We need to heal and seal that gut, and restore that bacterial balance, and then one day soon you should be able to  eat other foods. On occasion I’ve managed to give you some lamb but can’t be sure it’s sitting well in your gut. You still have symptoms you see. Poor sleep. Abnormal poop. Rash. And now a small boil has appeared near your right nipple. I pray every day that one day we’ll be symptom free and able to eat whatever we like.

Now that you’re firmly up on two legs, it’s hard for your old mama to keep up. Blimey, can you move! I used to be fast on my pins, but since I turned over the hill of 40 years old, things haven’t been the same. My metabolism ain’t what it used to be. I just hope you have the sense to stay out of the road. Remember, our puss-cat was killed out there.

We do have a gate, but you are obsessed with figuring it out. You can open doors in the house, turn on taps, flush loos and flick light switches, so who knows what’s next. Everytime we go to the park, you head straight for the gates and start figuring out how to open them. It won’t be long before I have to put a bloody great big double bolt and padlock on our front gate to keep you safe inside.

But that might not stop you, because you’re also working hard on your climbing skills. Scaling the dining room table is a breeze for you these days. You’re all about getting into new and difficult places to reach all those fascinating and dangerous things that mama is determined to hide from you.

By the way, you broke my iPod player this week. That’s another very expensive toy you owe me.

You haven’t been doing much talking yet. I keep thinking I hear whole sentences, but it could be my imagination. You babble a lot. You can sort of say dog, duck, deer and da-da. And bath and by-by. That’s the full repertoire for now. You understand everything perfectly well, just haven’t got the vocal cords working properly yet to respond. Don’t worry, bun-buns, all in good time. You’ll be chewing my ear off before we both know it.

It won’t be long before the end of the year, and before we know it, you’ll be turning 2 and trotting off to preschool, yakking with your mates. I’m going to stretch out these next few months as long as possible. Maybe we’ll go on holiday together, once we crack this health stuff and can take a break without having to eat squash, chicken and chard for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Somewhere warm and tropical where we can eat coconut and papaya. Something to look forward to on your next birthday, sweet-pea.

Keep smiling, bunny. Stay as sweet as you are. I love you with all my heart and soul. Remember that. You are my world. The sun in the morning and the moon at night. I love every little bit of your bones. Happy Birthday bun-buns.

All my love always

Mummy xxxxxxxx

 

18 months old today! (again)

Bun-buns! I’ve missed your birthday again. I’m 19 days late. Or is it 20? Yikes. Unforgivable. Not only am I horribly late AGAIN, but last month’s Happy 18 month Birthday post actually should have been your 17 month birthday! It’s this month that’s your 18 month, year-and-a-half-birthday-bonanza-big-day. Honestly, what a cockup!

What a ditz your poor ol’ mum is. To think I used to have a brain. I’ve got the same old excuses up my sleeve – severe lack of sleep, hopelessly trying to cope with multiple food allergies and intolerances, and generally run off my feet from doing the single mama juggle shuffle. I’ve got squash for brains, all squishy and full of mush, which isn’t surprising since that’s all I’ve been eating for the last 2 months. But really, there’s no excuse. I’m sorry bunny. Forgive me.

I hope one day you’ll realise that I did the very best I could under the circumstances. It hasn’t been easy. And given our situation, what’s a late birthday post here and there, I ask you? The main thing is I managed to keep you as healthy and nourished as possible, and bathed you with all of my love. And I plan to continue this way for the rest of my life, ok?

Last month, for your epic one and a half year mark, we went to England again.  I know. That’s 3 times in less than 2 years. I was hoping you’d be getting used to the whole long haul flight thing, but alas no. The flight was a nightmare. It wasn’t all your fault. I blame British Airways. We’re going Virgin Atlantic from here on out. You pretty much bounced off the walls for the entire flight, leaving your mama frazzled and fried. Stupidly I gave you a whole bowl of raspberries, blackberries and grapes thinking a bit of fruit would do you good, and forgetting that sugar, any kind of sugar, even fructose, turns you into a hyperactive monster. Like I said, squash for brains.

But despite our food challenges – which were exceptionally difficult to manage while traveling - we had barrels of fun traveling together. Blighty was a big blast. The weather was sweet as a nut for a change, and we got plenty of outdoor time. We rented this cute little row boat in Hyde Park and clowned about on the lake.

You took to it like a duck to water, getting to grips with the oars, and trailing your fingers in the water looking for fish to tickle. You’ve got a fine pair of sea legs on you. You’ll be taking after your father and Bapu on that one, my son.

Ahoy there bun-buns! Here you are practising your sea cap’n skills at the Princess Diana children’s park in Kensington.

We hit the parks while we were in the big smoke. One of your favourites was Coram’s Fields. Lots of pigeons to chase, plenty of swings and slides, but best of all the water fountains!

You’ve been growing like a weed this month. Not getting any fatter, but definitely longer and leaner. Not talking yet, but running around like crazy and making lots of communicative sounds. You have so much expression and vitality oozing out of you. You’re blossoming into a proper little boy. Oodles of energy. Strong willed. Independent. Running and exploring all the time, without looking back to see if mama is behind you. Curious about everything. Trusting and open to the wonder of life. I love that about you.

Life with you is a big, fun, mischievous adventure. A playground for your pleasure.

After a week in London, we headed off to Far West Cornwall for a couple of weeks. That’s where you were conceived bunny. Where mama carried you in her belly for the first few months of your life. We got roots there bun-buns.

Look! This is where your mama used to live. Heart of my home. The place I loved the most. It’s called Wicca Farm, in West Penwith. It dates back to the Bronze Age. I lived in the barn on the left. I don’t know how I ever tore myself away from there. But it’s no place for a baby bun-buns. You might have slipped on a granite style and cracked your head, or fallen off the cliff path into the unforgiving seas. It’s better that I brought you here to safe, sunny, happy California. No witch trials around here. No dangerous mishaps or strange goings on in the night.

Along with the witches, West Cornwall has some of the best beaches in the world. Fine white sand. Perfect surf. Teeming with tidepools. But sadly, it turns out that you’re not really a beach bunny. Getting sand on your paws freaks you out. I’m hoping with time you’ll get into the beach thing. It’s a fun place when you give it a chance, bunny. Trust me.

 Once I bought you an orange spade and a yellow fishing net, you were more interested.

Best of all was poking about the small, brightly coloured fishing boats at low tide. That was right up your alley.  You just loved those boat buoys.

 We spent some time at the ancient Merry Maidens stone circle in Lamorna, one of your mama’s favourite old haunts. 

We frolicked like fairies. Round and round we went, casting mischief and magic to the four directions.

It was such a lovely time together, just me and you. We had baths together. We slept in the big bed together.  We ate our chicken, chard and squash together. I didn’t want it to end. There were no classes to go to. No bills to pay. No phone calls to make. It was how life should be. Moment by moment, pure fun and play.

Once or twice I even think we got close to baseline with your food allergies. All that sea air and stress free living, has to count for something. I know we’ll crack this health stuff sweetie. Hang in there with me, and let’s see what magic we can weave over the next few months. By your second birthday, we’ll be eating vegan coconut chocolate cake again, you’ll see!

Happy belated birthday bunny! It’s been such a pleasure sharing my life with you. I don’t know where I’d be without you walking by my side.

I love you so much bun-buns.

All my love forever

Mummy xxxxxxxxx

 

Just another shitty day

First bunny pulled off his nappies this morning on the playmat and unleashed a bout of foul-smelling diarrhea which he then poked and spread about with his feet. Lots of undigested, nasty bits of poop and slime all over his arms and legs, all over the spiffy Skip Hop Play Spot mats, and all over me. Lovely.

I had to wrestle him into the bathtub for a major clean-up, and while I was gone the cat shat on the mat. Yep, that’s right. The cat decided to give it a go as well, and left an even more foul-smelling pile of sticky, slimy poop for me to clean up.

Bunny and I rushed like mad to get to music class on time smelling of roses, and not poop, only to find the studio locked up because shit-for-brains here got the date wrong. Which is the second time that’s happened to me in a week.

All this food allergy stuff has got my head in a right muddle.

Finally after coming home and struggling with the bunny for about an hour, trying to get him to take a nap, I decided to go out and treat myself to a much needed manicure. My nails are chewed and chipped up something rotten what with all the stress we’ve been under. Plus chopping up ten tons of squash and chard every day plays havoc with your hands. Not to mention boiling up chicken bone broth.

We went to this place in the city called Mani and Nanny (polish while they play) where I dropped bunny off into childcare and watched him on TV while I got pampered in the next room. Which sounds good in theory, but just as I was settling into my chair the nanny came out carrying bunny, and asked me if it was OK if he ate an orange.

Er, no. Said I. It was NOT okay.

Has he actually EATEN an orange? I asked with a sinking heart.

I’m thinking FUCK. I can’t believe I didn’t tell them my son was allergic to most foods when I checked him in. And I can’t believe the nanny let him eat an orange without checking in with me first.

Well, he ate a little piece. Yes. Not a very big piece. Just a small mandarin. He’s not allergic is he? The nanny stammered and faltered under my glare.

FUCK.

He comes out in a rash around his mouth within minutes. An hour later and the reaction deepens. He’s hyper. He’s hot. He’s clammy. He’s unhappy. He doesn’t eat his dinner when we get home. He jumps around the walls for a while, and then leaps around in bed, pulling on my breasts wanting to nurse, nurse, nurse, even though the milk bar is run dry. He doesn’t want to sleep. He’s hyper. He hits me. He bites. He cries. He has gas. He finally passes out and has already woken up several times while I’m writing this post, and he’s only been in bed for less than 3 hours. It’s going to be yet another long night.

I almost called my mum to tell her I can’t do this anymore. This parenting thing is too hard for me. I can’t stay on top of it. These food issues are taking a heavy toll on me. I feel so helpless. I do everything I can and shit still happens. I can’t keep bunny in a box, isolated from the world around him. He’s going to be exposed to all kinds of food in the outside world. How in God’s name am I supposed to protect him?

Sigh. Like I said. Another shitty day.

 

Multiple food allergies galore and more

Phew. Almost a month since I last posted. I can’t seem to get it together to blog these days. Mostly because I’m shattered. Talk about no energy. I got no mojo. Zilch chi.

Of course, bunny still has plenty of beans for the both of us, but at the same time I am worried to death about his health. He bounces around brightly enough most days. To the outsider he looks like a normal, healthy, happy toddler. But if you look more closely, underneath the surface, through his mama’s eyes, you will see quite clearly that, Houston, we have a problem. A bucket load of problems to be precise, and they just ain’t going away.

We’ve been on a hideous extreme elimination diet of squash, chicken, and chard now for about 6 weeks. I have ulcers in the back of my throat and on my lip. I have ear ache. My glands are swollen. I’ve lost several pounds over the last few weeks, which normally would be cause for celebration, but it’s all gone from my legs and arms, and the pudge around my tummy looks even bigger in comparison. Stick limbs protruding from a fat belly. Not exactly the look I want at this stage of my life.

Truth is, I don’t really need to lose weight. I need to tone up. But on this ridiculously extreme diet coupled with no sleep and a belly full of worry, there is no chance of me toning up anything except my stress muscles. Plus I hate chicken. I’ve been vegetarian for over 20 years, and now I’m forcing down the chicken on a daily basis, and frankly it does not agree with me. I have foul smelling fowl flatulence. Very unpleasant. My farts are so putrid they could knock out an elephant. I’m too gassed to go out. It’s embarrassing. Everytime I let one rip in public, I quickly shoot an accusatory look at the bun-buns, and make a big show of checking his nappies. His fart. Not mine.

I know I need help. For a start, I need more nutrients. More vitamins. More food, for godsake. But everytime I introduce something into our diet, bunny has a reaction that throws us through a major loop, and there’s no hope for it. The new food has to go out the window, and it’s back to good old squash and chicken and chard. For breakfast, lunch and dinner. And snacks. I’ve got squash coming out of my ears.

Luckily it’s squash season, so there’s plenty of strange and wonderful squash to choose from. My mum bought one over today that looks like a large, bloated white starfish. I’m not exactly sure what to do with it’s legs. Maybe they’re ornamental.

In a desperate attempt to get something nutritious into my body, I started taking fish oils three days ago. Nordic Naturals, which I thought was a “good”, clean brand. God knows it costs enough dosh. Anyway, it was a BIG mistake. It took me 24 hours to figure out that the extreme red ring of doom around bun bun’s bum, the instant red rash on his body, the gas, the eczema, the fitful, fretful sleep, was all down to one itty-bitty SOY ingredient that I failed to notice when I checked the ingredients. Soy masquerading as Vitamin E. It’s everywhere.

I am fast becoming a food allergy detective. Not a very good one, but I’m learning the hard way. I did find one brand (Blue Ice) that makes a fish oil with no additives, no soy, no wheat, no gluten, no dairy, no nothing. Just fish oil. So I guess we’ll give that a whirl, and hope that bunny isn’t allergic to fish oil itself. I have to get something nutritious inside me, or I am going to puff away into thin air. I could combust from a putrifying fart.

Here’s another thing I’m freaking out about. Last week we went to the park. A seemingly safe and benign activity. I took my eyes off the bunny for a minute, and quick as a flash he found what looked like a wheat cracker in the sand, and managed to swallow half of it before I could prise the rest from his teeth. 20 minutes later he had red blisters all around his mouth, and an hour later he turns into a raging, hyperactive monster toddler running rings around the place, frantic as a rabid bunny.

I bundled him back home, whereupon he leapt about on the biggest adrenalin rush I’ve ever seen. Like someone had given him a megadose of speed. It was horrible. Later that night he wouldn’t sleep, preferring instead to bounce off the walls while giggling like a maniac. I had to do a BIG time out for me (not for him – he was way beyond any kind of disciplinary action)  as I was close to losing my temper and throwing him out the window.

Of course, I would never actually harm my little bun-buns. I love him far too much for that. But I AM getting to the end of my tether, folks. I don’t know how much more I can take. Some serious action needs to be taken. Something has to change. Something needs to give. I’ve got some appointments lined up next week with various docs. Tests, tests and more tests.  Some acupuncture, some homeopathy, some nutritional therapy. We need a big support team. We can’t crack this nut on our own. By golly, I swear we’ll get a handle on this one way or another. We’ll get our guts back in shape. I’ll have those farts smelling sweet again and the bunny back on track with his health. It’s just a matter of time…

 

18 months old!!!

I’m sorry, bunny. I’m over 2 weeks late to wish you Happy Birthday. I’m a rubbish mum. But believe me, I do have my reasons. And none of them mean I love you any less. I’ve been wanting to wish you Happy Birthday every day for the last 2 weeks, but what with one thing and another, the time has slipped by and well… now here I am. Better late than never, my cherub. I hope you forgive me.

It’s a big one too. You’re 18 months old now! A whole year and a half! What a wonderful milestone! In two shakes of a rabbit’s tail you’ll be turning from a toddler into a teenager, and I’ll be well over the hill and completely lost without you teeter tottering by my side. It breaks my heart to think how fast the time has flown by.

This month has been your month for walking. You’re up on two pins now, good and proper. No more crawling and wearing out the knees in your jeans, which is a shame really, as they were super stylish and cool. You can’t buy them in the shops like that, you know. Those authentic ripped jeans of yours have caught many an envious look. I’m going to try and keep squeezing your butt into them as long as I possibly can. Squeeze a bit more life out of them, which actually isn’t that hard to do since you seem to be losing weight lately. You’re still wearing your 6 to 12 month clothes. They hang off you like a scarecrow. Builder’s bum seems to be a trademark of yours. Lucky for you that’s a cute bottom. Must have inherited that best ass(et) from me.

Your walking skills have progressed rapidly. You’ve mastered standing up and sitting down, negotiated stairs both up and down (albeit with a pair of mama’s hands to help you) and you race around the house and garden at a fair old pace, your little legs moving far too fast for your body to catch up. Lots of falling down and bruises, but you are a tough little cookie, and not many tears have been spilt along the way.

Except for the time that mummy put you down on the kitchen side while she messed about making a cup of tea, and you leaned over and turned the gas burner on, and burnt your hand. You screamed and cried for a couple of hours after that. I’ll never forgive myself for being such an idiot.

Then there was the time, the next day as it happens, that you were running to greet me across the lawn and tripped and fell on a bee. I had to pull out the sting with my finger nails. You cried a lot then too. It was the same hand as the burn. Bad luck, bunny. Bad luck. At least we know that you are NOT allergic to bees. Phew.

However, you do seem to be allergic to everything else. In particular to food. This is the month that we’ve been caught in the throes of food intolerances and allergies. Not to mention other things besides. Like grass. And dirt. Keeping out of the mud seems to be a bit of a problem for you…

Mummy is doing her very best to get to the bottom of these allergy things and failing miserably. I gave you an orange today, and you LOVED it. And then an hour later broke out in a vicious red rash, lots of gas and stomach pains and the bloody Red Ring of Doom around the anus made an appearance again. I’m afraid it’s back to chicken soup with squash, carrot and spinach for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Lovely. I hope one day we will look back at this food challenged period and remember it fondly as a distant nightmare. Messy monotone mundane mealtimes will be a thing of the past.

Despite the health challenges, you’re still mama’s smiley little bundle of joy. This past month we’ve had a whole host of exciting and fun adventures together. We went on our first carousel. A solar powered one. The horses went up, the horses went down, around and around and around. You had so much fun. That is, until the bloke working there clocked us and made me measure you against a stick, whereupon he promptly announced you were too short to ride. What a party pooper. Honestly, this country has gone to the dogs. Too much health and safety shenanigans. It’s not safe to have fun anymore.

Look! These are the first flowers you picked for me from the garden! You toddled all the way down the end of the garden to bring me the last of the flowers that the deer had missed chomping. Such a sweetie! It brought a tear to my eye.

The big event of the month was Bapu and Grandma K coming to visit, all the way from New Mexico in their swanky Mercedes RV. It was an epic occasion. Every day was chock full of fun and games, and lots of attention lavished on you, my bright eyed bun-buns. Grandpa walked you around the garden and played silly buggers with the hose pipe, swooshing it around and around like a maniac, spraying water and mud everywhere. You loved it. I’m not sure the landlady would have appreciated Bapu’s antics, but luckily she didn’t pop round while the hose party was in full swing.

You spent many hours rummaging about in the dirt and undergrowth of the back woods with Bapu. Clearly a man after your own heart.

You also played happily in the vegetable garden with Grandma K.

We went on a road trip here and there, to show Bapu and Grandma the sights.

And on the last day, we ended up at Rodeo beach, where you nestled into my lap and stared wistfully out to sea.

I love you little snuggle bunny, with all my heart and soul. Happy Birthday sweet-ums. Stay small and happy, and cute as you are, and you’ll go far.

All my love always, Mummy xxxxxxxxxx