Month Sixty-Eight


Dear Husband,

What do you do in the mornings? I’m just asking because I am buggered if I know. Up until this month, you have been working 9 to 5. This meant that I was out the door in the mornings well before you needed to leave. Yes, you did get to watch your news on tv but Genevieve was by no means ready when I left and in fact, on a few occasions, she wasn’t even awake. You still apparently managed to get both you and her out the door in (almost) enough time to get her to kindy before going to work yourself. You both had shoes and socks on, the nappy bag was in tow and I’m pretty sure that at least she had breakfast before you left the house. And now this month, you have finally been given the 8 till 4 shift.

So now you have let me know that we should leave the house at the same time. We can both get ready simultaneously and get out the door, hopefully just after 7am. It no longer works that I just wake you up after I have a shower though. You need a shower too. So I have started waking up 10 minutes earlier to accommodate for this. I have also started to get Genevieve up, get her breakfast ready, get the nappy bag and formula ready and prepare food for the dog. All things that you were able to manage before. This is on top of getting showered, dressed, breakfasted and lunch made etc. Everything I did before whilst still making it out the door on time. Or mostly on time. Only now I am late all the time. So are you although I’m not really sure why.

You don’t really eat breakfast. You rarely organise or pack yourself lunch. The extent to which you go to in order to have respectable business attire is putting your shirt in the dryer for 10 minutes before putting it on – you haven’t been near an iron in months. Since I am now getting up ten minutes earlier so that you can shower when I used to and I am also picking up parts of the routine that prepares all living members of our household to vacate the premises for the day, I am starting to wonder what on earth it is that you do which leaves you incapable of getting out of the house on time. You get showered, get dressed, help Genevieve eat breakfast and be clothed and apparently do secret men’s business for the rest of the fifty minutes you should have before leaving the house and the hour and fifteen minutes you take before leaving the house on a regular basis.

I’m not convinced that this is all Genevieve’s doing either. I do know that she takes an inordinately long time to eat on occasion. If she is not prompted, she goes at the pace of a wet week. They say slow and steady wins the race but they weren’t really talking about the rat race. It doesn’t turn the wheels of the daily grind fast enough to be of any benefit. Even on a bad day though, you can get her to finish two weetbix in under half an hour. So getting out the door should be child’s play, right? Except it seems you can’t and I’m really not sure why.

I did suggest that it could make our lives easier if we did not give her breakfast before leaving but deliver her to kindy when it opened and allow them to feed her the same breakfast we would have at home. You didn’t like that idea though. So here we are, trying to get everything finished and ready in the mornings so that we can leave the house at the appropriate time and it never seems to quite work out. I’d like to know if I can get some time for secret women’s business though or if you can start getting up earlier than I do so that I can figure out whatever it is that you do because maybe I’d like to do it too.

And this has been my overwhelming thought for the month. Not about getting some time for secret women’s business but wondering just what it is that you do in the mornings. I’m sure there are other things that have gone on this month and maybe even some that are worthy of mention but I can’t quite think of them now as tardiness as a topic has taken over. But you know I still love you, right?

Lately Yours,
Your Loving Wife


Week 117


Dear Genevieve,

You have a new dance move that you have started trying out at every opportunity. It’s this cute little bum wiggle that is a complete crack up. You isolate your hips from your torso and swish them from side to side as you look up at us with a cheeky grin and it’s really funny. You do it when you hear music you like, when you find a stage to showcase your talents and whenever you happen to be filling in time. Like when you are waiting for a babyccino. And you LOVE your babyccinos.


Before your father and I had you, we saw babyccinos as one of the biggest ripoffs on the planet. A marketing tool for cafes and a way to make money out of the leftover froth from their cappuccinos and lattes. Now we think they are just short of brilliant. Your dad really enjoys going out for coffee and it’s a way for you to be Just Like Him. You have become quite the connoisseur of babyccinos around Sydney too. You and your father have been all over the place along your travels. You know where the ones with the chocolate milk, the baby marshmallows, the big marshmallows and the extra marshmallows are. You know where you can get the best froth, the syrup and the sprinkles. You have also sussed out which cafes have the best playgrounds as well which may contribute to your longing for the beverage.

You will ask to have a babyccino quite regularly and you have become very adept at getting your way. Whenever your father asks what you would like to do together, nine times out of ten you tilt your head to the side, grin and say babyccino? If the answer is no, you work your way down the list – daddy coffee? Because naturally what follows from that is the baby version. And when your father decides a trip to a cafe is not on the cards you might suggest “the shops”, you know, for that all important ingredient, milk, which just so happens to be what you need to make ababyccino at home! You’re a pretty smart kid. That thought process was enough to get you what you wanted on at least one occasion.


So yeah, you love getting your own way. Who doesn’t? We are trying to curb the most obnoxious aspects of your desires though. Like the fact that, in your words, whatever it is that you want ismine. My phone, my shirt, my puter, my everything. As your mother, I have apparently ceased to have any of my own belongings. And it’s not a reference thing, like my house as opposed to your house, it’s a possessive thing. Like my car…but I will let you parentals drive it. Now there are things that actually are yours but your possessive streak often dictates that we are not allowed to touch whatever it is because you must have it in your literal possession and control. Which would be really inconvenient if we weren’t bigger and stronger than you are. I’m not ashamed to say it.

So what else this month? Well you have started to refer to yourself as Genevieve and not just Genni. Oddly enough as I have started to use Genni more often. You know it’s not your full name though. And you like talking. You also like putting things together in your head to communicate. We were joking around in the car the other day and I started telling you that Daddy was being so silly. I had repeated this a couple of times when you finally piped up “no, sensible!”. Which surprised the hell out of me because 1, I didn’t know that you actually knew the word sensibleand 2, it was perfectly in context (even if not precisely accurate). And that wasn’t your only pearler in the car either.


At another point when your Dad was yet again joking around and being silly, you decided that you’d had enough. We encourage you to say no thank you or no please when you want us to stop something so you said “no please Daddy, no please Daddy” and when he didn’t immediately cease, you figured he either didn’t hear you or wasn’t taking enough notice so you said almost to yourself “say it louder…” then “NO PLEASE DADDY!”. I thought it was hilarious. Just like when we talk about something and then I ask you a question in reference to the subject – maybe it’s time for afternoon tea, what should we have? We have some yoghurt in the fridge, would you like some yoghurt? – to which you will sometimes reply with a very surprised sounding “oh yeah!”, like you totally didn’t know that such a thing was possible a minute ago and you never would have remembered on your own.

Overall though, one of your father’s favourite things this month is that you will both recognise and request that Michael Jackson is played in the car. Which may or may not precipitate in dancing. There has been a lot of dancing this month. And when you are out of the car, this totally goes with the bum wiggling. My two favourite memories of you this month though were ones that top and tailed February for us. At the very beginning of the month, we took you to putt putt for the first time. You got your mini golf club and your hot pink golf ball and before your dad could instruct you on the proper technique to master your game, you gave the ball a bit of a whack and off the ball went. And you got a hole in one! Your father thought he’d be generous and give you another go at the first hole though because he wasn’t prepared the first time around and you’d made a bit of an uncoordinated hit. So you put the ball down again, gave it another whack before he could start to instruct you and got a hold in one again! It was totally cool.


Finally, at the end of the month when I was really upset and your father told you that I was very sad you showed what a caring daughter you are. He asked if you wanted to make me feel better and when you agreed completely, he asked you what you thought might make me feel better. And bless your cotton socks, you said in all seriousness “an ice pack”. Because that’s what we give you when you have a big ouch and you are very sad.

I love you big time my baby girl.

Alles Liebe,