Late Summer Weekend

Boo!

Don't ask... we're still playing hide and seek, all day long. Well... that portion of any long day that mum and dad can stand playing hide and seek for, over and over again. Poor Tara, said portion of any day is growing shorter and shorter, even though we try to vary the location for some extra kicks.

Somebody help me find that girl?!

The Mother of all games of hide and seek: Tara, and the dolls, and mum, and dad disappear under a blanket, mumble to themselves, "My my, we wonder where we have disappeared to...", count to three/drei/tres, pull the blanket off and shout BOO! at the empty room. She loves it. The more, the merrier.

I finally got another thrilling toy out, once I'd lured her away from under the blanket, off the sofa, under a blanket outdoors, and away from under it. (One step at a time...)
The Bikickle! Bifi! Fakad!


She made it a few inches forward, a few back, and both self-propelled. One minor hick-up: when mum strapped Tara onto the bike with the attached safety belts, lost interest, and walked away to do something else. Dear dear, but a good job it is that she has a voice, three languages, and knows to use the lot. "Mamaaa! Papaaaa! Aaaaah! Eeeeeh! Eeeeh!" That's what we have our Dr. Daddy for, I say. Don't ask me what I was thinking; I've even forgotten what I went off to do. *Sigh*

Anyway, where it comes to Tara's new great cycling skills, we celebrate such successes: a trip down to the wild outdoors. She rode her bikickle for about three minutes (that is, pushed by dad), then demanded she get to ride the Papa-horse. How is it that you always end up carrying your children, as well as their ride on toys?!

Horse-spotting on Papa horse

Berry-spotting! There! There! There!

Yee-ha! Giddy-up, Papa horse!

Verry berry delights

There had been nothing but miserable weather since we got back from Germany three weeks ago. There can hardly be any hope that we'll get more than these last two days, can there. On the plus side, I never bothered getting my official summer clothes out, so now at least I won't have to worry about putting them away again. Little comfort though, especially now that I've got some spare time coming my way with Tara partying at nursery. I do feel a bit guilty about "sending her away," but with a bit of luck she'll find a nurse or friend that's happy to play hiding-under-blankets for three hours every morning, while I bore myself silly looking for work, and learning to appreciate crowded sofas cum blanket a bit more.

Hide and Seek

Where is Tara? My, my... I wonder where she went... Oh no, she's disappeared altogether now... Now what on earth am I going to DO?! Where IS that girl!

"Peek a BOO!" (*Shriek* *Giggle* *Scream!*)

Tara's favourite game these days? "MaaMMA!" (make that loud) "VERSTECKEN!!" (loud, too) "Auffe Sofa! Jetzt!" (no less loud).
So we enter this altogether sensible, ritualised scenario:
Intro: Mama dumps Tara on said Sofa. Mama covers Tara (or: Tara and various selected, individually chosen dolls and/or cuddly toys) with either blanket, cushions or zebra rug, or combination thereof.
Climax: Mama declares shock surprise and horror at disappearance of daughter. Daughter giggles.
Happy Ending: Either, Tara emerges shouting and giggling; or, Tara is 'found', and found to be equally noisy as in option one.
Repeat.

Really, it's two things I seeking these days. Tara of the sofa, and a job. Nine months after I've left my old job (*sob, sniff*), and five weeks after I took Tara out of nursery for the 'summer' (summer, beach and sunshine, ha ha!), we're supposed to go back. Tara to a new* nursery round the corner that wasn't there originally, for every morning and a few extra hours; and me to a job that hasn't materialised yet, and that is hoped, expected and supposed to be good for my mental and intellectual health, for my self-esteem that has suffered a little since my demotion... ahem... career change to Ramsgate SAHM (stay at home mum), and for my ability to afford massages and other fun things.
The language specialist grammar school library people have allowed themselves not even wanting to see me for interview (shock horror!), and were rude enough (or badly organised enough) to not even put that rejection in writing. In return, I have allowed myself the right of not having to apply for every job that half seems to match my difficult available hours. There was, for example, the breakfast attendant at a nearby hotel, 6-11am, and roughly 5pence per hour over minimum wages. Or, at our government's very own job centre, the cheerful position of adult chatline chatter for, surprisingly, not much more of a salary. Both, noticed, and ignored.
So here I am, seeking.
Sadly, finding a reasonable job is more difficult than finding Tara. Or... hang on. Maybe not. Luckily, finding Tara is as easy as it gets. Who'd want to swap her for the career of a lifetime!

So here we are, one outfit (day) later...

Oh NO! Again! Where COULD she BE!

"Boo!" Repeat ad infinitum (*giggle* *scream*)

* Note to future reader older and traumatised Tara: Really sorry for yet another change baby, but I'm tired of walking 30-45 minutes to drop off or fetch you in bad weather.

PS: Any anonymous reader got a job for me? Note, though, that I'm a bit of a snob, and will not clean toilets, serve vile unhealthy food, get up at 5am, work in any cheap, asthetically unleasing shops, or directly deal with kids. Other than that, I won't agree to do anything that I'm not sure I'll do well. So. Anyone, anything, for reasonable pay? For any of the above check again in a few months when I might be desperate.

Snap! Blackberries

Inner city berries, the very best! Well. Maybe not. But certainly just as messy as their outer city cousins.

PS:. And I said...

... DO NOT SQUISH YOUR BLACKBRRIES!!

Take care of your slip

The Olympics in China are over. We have no TV (read: we're not connected to watch programmes), so we faithfully continue watching (DVDs) Charlie and Lola, Shaun the Sheep, and Piglet Babe exclusively. Our only olympic endeavour is of a different kind... you think potty training? No no, we're just getting used to the idea of the potty and keep dancing. No. Tara is well in love with watching stuff, and having the TV on for ever. She sits up in bed in morning, and without further ado declares: "Nanenbot (Bananenbrot / banana bread)! Shaun Saaf / TarlieLola / Weinsen (Schweinchen) Babe!" Aaaaaall day long!
She's two now isn't she. So now she's allowed all that was off limits before. Chocolate. Crisps. Hot Chocolate. Watching TV (DVD!). Watching TV (DVD!). Watching TV (DVD!)*. In short, bad habits of all sorts that make my life easier.


She's also allowed potty training, but not that interested yet. However, we did find this online (on the blog of some guy in China who records funny mistranslations), and think it's great advice for when Tara does decide to make potty training her next olympic feat, whether in front of the TV or not: Take care of your SLIP!**


* DVD! We don't watch TV as such, Mr TV Licensing guy, just so we're clear about that!
** Granted, I've not heard a single English person saying slip and meaning underwear / knickers /pants, but I did check a dictionary and it featured, so the joke, by dictionary definition, IS funny.

Ponytails and Pole Dancers

Ta-da! Tara's first encounter with girly hair fashion. Now that she's not a baby any more we've got to get up to adding a bit of girly charm. Dresses, hair, necklaces, pole dancing. Oh well, the pole dancing is abviously not for her, I'm confusing agendas - pole dancing is on mine, with classes starting this very evening, after a long and uncertain wait at the gym (see, Janet?). Tara however, is quite fascinated with pole dancers, too. We went to see a carnival the other day, and the local pole dancers' float was parked outside the hosts' house. It wasn't even me who drew her attention to it and taught her the word (it was a man, of course), but she didn't stop demanding to see them for the next hour, and still speaks of them a fortnight later; and none of it my doing! Ah, so lovely to see when things run in the family and us girls have a passion in common.
Dancing would even be a passion that spans three generations now. While in Germany, Tara spent a lot of time with her Oma Gisela (primary school teacher for music and movement/dance), listening to music and doing some dancing, and then some more and some more. She'd try to drag me to play (on the odd occasion), declaring, "Hucka! Hucka! Mama kann's"! ('Hooka Hooka, mummy can do it!'), and puzzling her poor old mum greatly, who knew nothing about a song or dance called that, and certainly couldn't do it (bless her trusting daughter's heart). Back home, she's not stopped. We listen to "Kara's Musik" daily, and she will sway back and forth, occasionally grabbing her dollies to hug them close and dance with them, and occasionally (but less so), refusing to let me change a nappy cause dancing is so much more important than clean bums ("Nein, Mama, keine new nappy! Kacki auch tanzen!" - 'No mummy, no new nappy! Poopy dance too!').
Enough telling of matter that maybe shouldn't be told! I must pack my shorts, and serve my freshly bathed family dinner.

Snap: Viel besser.

Wie wunderbar, eine Tante zu haben, die einem einen Babyccino spendiert UND einem den Stuhl macht! Tara, lucky as ever...

Snap: Zu klein! Gemein!

Snap!

That's us today, making good use of a sunny spell. Tara learned the basics of putting up the washing from her nan last week, and she's loving it so much she keeps pulling it all back off to put it back again, oh yes!

Snap! Introducing mobile blogging

This is where all my blogging friends go, whoa, i want that too! A new computer, a new phone... You'd think it was MY birthday! Now talk about the new phone, it has this nice little camera and mobile blogging facilities. Read: take a pic, and two clicks later it's been uploaded onto the blog. But i'm not showing off, i'm merely advertising sony ericsson walkman phones ;) and new babies or houses like other blogging folk got themselves are much much cooler anyway! So here is the snap of the day. Tara refusing to nap all day long at appropriate times, only to collapse on mummy a few hours before bedtime. We brought a bit of a broken routine back from germany. Of which i'll talk tomorrow. Promise. IF tara sleeps at reasonable times, that is!