Laterne, Laterne - Shake it, Tara!

My-oh! This is better than Cosmic Ordering! There has been more mail for Tara still, and this time Martha & Ida sent her a Lantern, more lyrics than we know the melodies of, and a lantern stick, batterie operated and guaranteed not to burn the house down. Wheeee! Up! And down! Side! To side! To other side! And ALL OVER AGAIN!




Meanwhile, I let the child swing on, thank Katja greatly, and restore the dental floss to its natural abode, my pocket / bathroom cupboard / kitchen shelves / toothbrush holder. (Also, I continue wondering why it says on every lantern's package "Do not use outdoors"... Surely we'd ALL rather burn a bush down than our very own home?)

Snap: Shop till you drop

Better still? Shop till your baby drops, cause then you can go on shopping unperturbed!

See the 'Sale Sale' signs in the corner?
It was on the way back home from nursery, and we were just going to nip into town to get a treat for the way home, but alas! we chanced across this card shop that is folding in (Seriously, three card shops on 30 square meters is a bit too many even for England, especially Ramsgate...), and proclaimed FIVE cards for A POUND! In we went... after all, there are ALWAYS birthdays coming round... poor Tara got fobbed off with "We're leaving in a minute, just let me look at... these... and these... and these..." while I studies every single card in the shop. Poor child. She eventually looked up, voiced a weak 'Mami...' and then her eyes just closed. In the glaring shoplight, facing up, quite a feat.
And I only spent 6 Pounds. So, 30 cards for the price of 2-3. I mean, who can be me, and say no to that?! Exactly. House moves, weddings, kiddie birthdays, Tara's birthdays, new babies (boy/girl)... we're sorted for the next three years or so. My lowest moment came when I spent a minute considering a "Happy 40th Birthday" with Nirite in mind. It was such a nice card... but I did draw the line at the 3-year mark and resisted.* Tara was asleep. I could afford to waste that minute considering splurging.

*Also, as we all know, Nirite will never be 40. "27" forever, and eventually a graceful overnight jump to 55 or so. There were no cards saying "What, 27 again?" - even the cardwise very specific English have not come across such miracles of youth before.

Snap: Big girl, bigger bow!

VIP mail from America contained giant head gear, oh so cute! We're biking child with beautiful bow thru neighbourhood to collect all the aaaaw's that we are thus due! ;) Thanks to auntie Nirite!

Snap: "Mami...?"

On Tara's long days at nursery (8am to 3pm, twice per week), I always feel a little guilty for sending her away for so long. After all, I've not (yet) got a job to justify the long hours, and going to the gym and for a coffee in town doesn't really constitute an excuse either, however much of a good (enough) reason it may be.
But today on the way home she looked up from her pushchair while munching on some 'flamango' (dried mango), and told me:
"Mamiiii...? Kinnergarten schööön. Kara spielen mit Tina. Und mit Isobelle. Und mit Honey." (Mummy, nursery lovely. Tara play with Tina. And with Isobelle, and with Honey.)
And she turned back contentedly, munched on, and eventually conked out from the effort of having so much fun at nursery for seven hours. (Seven hours, Oh. My. God. Major maternal GUILT flash!!!)
I was so touched (and relieved!), just like when she occasionally and unexpectedly praises me for whatever, "Mami, gut 'emacht." (Mummy well done.)
What joy having a walking talking daughter, even though it means she talks back on occasion ('on occasion' read 'daily, many times')...

Laterne, Laterne

Grad habe ich mich noch über den Mangel kaufbarer Laternen beklagt, und schwupp, hat Tara Post von Tante Claudia, Post mit Laterne! So ein Zufall!
Tara ist ganz aufgeregt und begeistert von ihrer "Fischi" Laterne, und nachdem wir einen Ast aus dem Garten gepfluckt und Fischi mit - wo haben wir denn hier mal einen reissfesten Faden... ähm... ah! - mit Zahnseide befestigt haben, darf Tara probetragen.

Mama, guck mal! Meine Laterne!
(Pose manipuliert... Mama hält oben ab Stock fest, von wegen stilll halten und so.)

Das geht so, das Probetragen:
Mama: "Also, gaaanz vorsichtig, gentle gentle! Die Laterne muss still sein und darf nicht wackeln."
Tara schwingt Fischi mit gusto hin und her und auf und ab. Jede Menge Bodenkontakt. Dotz dotz. Tara ist begeistert.
Mama korrigiert: "Nein nein nein, nicht so doll! Nicht die Laterne dotzen! Gentle! Ganz still!"
Tara: "Up! Down! Up! Down!" (juchz) Taras Laternetachnik ähnelt eher Angeln, nachdem ein fetter Brocken angebissen hat und ums Überleben kämpft.
Mama: Siehe oben.
Tara: Siehe oben.
Foto: Siehe unten. Action shot!

"Up! Down! Wheeee!"

Bevor Fischi blaue Flecken kriegt, wird er in der Küche in Sicherheit gebracht. Wir gehen zu ertwas sichereren Freizeitaktivitäten über... Auch gut, sagt sich Tara. Fischi ist meine Laterne (Laterne 'Schenk vonne Tante Caudilia), und ich krieg sie schon wieder. Stimmt. Später. Viel später...

Snap: Self-propelled!

The last time we tried her legs weren't long enough. But now, as she informs the neighbour as he speeds past us on his adult bike, "Tara got de legs!"

Mugshot

On Friday - hah! - I get to go to London to arrange for Tara's new passport, the second one already!
I'm afraid there'll be no spending money though. Shame.
If there was, though, I'd probably need two days off motherhood, what with so many shoe shops, biiig book shops and other London marvels calling, calling, calling very loudly indeed!

*sigh*


While over in Germany (still not reported on, oh dear) I had a look through old pictures of me, for comparison. To show that Tara looks nothing like me! Blatantly obvious in this family shot where our expression at least is similar. And of course, The Nose. But that's all.


She doesn't look much linke her uncle Derek either. The jaw line perhaps?

Baby uncle Derek & Baby Mama

No, there clearly is a reason for why half the village marvels at Tara's resemblance of her paternal grandmother when we waltz up and down her Spanish roots.

Wet Wet Wet

There's been the occasional sunny spell over the last few days, but on the whole I was right earlier. Summer is over. It's not very warm, and rather quite wet, although... mustn't complain.
Autumn has it charms, and while I'm not quite sure yet where to get good old German Laternen or kiddie kites from, I at least know how to lure Tara into the warm wet wet wet after a day in the cold wet wet wet.

Hello? I've finished my nap! Get me out!

Come on, Tara, I say, would you like me to run you a babycchino bubble bath? We can dress your head and and your nose in babycchino foam, and you can be a clown, and you can serve me a cup of hot bubbly babycchino coffee in the tub!
And that's all it takes.
"Mit Mami (mummy?)," she replies, and up the stairs we go, to hop into hot fluffy foam.


Her favourite and best warm water game is putting foam on her hands and clapping them together. Now, that's a real laugh!

Käse in'ne Mund

Wer, meine Freunde, hat sich da wohl den Weg in den unvorsichtig geöffneten Kühlschrank eröffnet, und mit einem geübten Expertenblick hinter Mamas Rücken den leckersten aller englischen Käse gegriffen und verschleppt?
"Das ist bestimmt die Weihnachtsmaus, die über Nacht gekommen..."

Snap: Superdad

Superdad is he who grants his baby girl's 'baby' warm asylum on a cold windy day. Award winning cool is what that is, I say.