Fine Fine Fine...

Tara had, no doubt, a half a day in toy paradise, and did just fine fine fine, we were told.
She was returned to me in her emergency clothes (yes! up to her neck!), hungry (yes! refused her bottle!), and overjoyed to have her parents back (yes! mummy and daddy are the best!). Also somewhat overtired as sleeping didn't quite work and she only managed 25 minutes instead of the two hours she should have done. Toy paradise, I tell you...

My job was returned to me in a similar state - I'd been deleted off all systems and could do nothing but browse through my own 9-months-old paperwork that people had kindly and efficiently kept for me. A gentle start.

And then we went home, mother and daughter, and collapsed in bed for an eternity. Tara had about 7 boobie meals; I do hope she doesn't keep that pace up or else I'll grow a bra size DD. And that, after 6 months of successful breastfeeding, would be rather uncool.

So There We Go...

And, this is, precisely, where we go:
Mummy: work. 8am, at her desk, system up and working. Passwords? Don't ask ME! It's about eight months since I last worried about them. I'll make it to the right floor though, and I'll be able to tell my colleagues from random strangers and other working folk. That's as good as it gets for now.
Tara: nursery. 7.45am, and she has no idea what is coming her way. Neither do the carers. Because I haven't told them. Because I did not know at that point. That Tara is refusing, absolutely refusing, to drink anything that's not served by nipple. Now that is what I call great news.
Other than that her previous induction sessions at nursery went well. Largely, I suspect, because they were brief and dry, and did not involve drink or food.
It went like this:

Take one nursery room, and place Tara in it together with whatever other kids are there.
Tara: sits opposite new friends, and stares at them with her What-Is -That? look.
New friends: sit opposite Tara, two start crying crying crying because they don't like strangers, not even new friends and their mums. Or maybe they were tired.
Mummy: sits down with Tara, gives her some cubes to slobber on (What else do we need? Friends? What-Is-That, friends?). One tearful baby stops crying and crawls over to sit on me. Nice. Mummy supplies baby with entertainment, Tara with more toys to slobber on, and carers with information about Tara and her routine (Routine. Yeah. Right.). Tara interaction with new friends: Zero. End of session one.
Session two: Mummy drops off Tara on carer's lap, walks off, returns after an hour, and is told all was well. ('All' did not involve feeling hungry and refusing the bottle; but it did, on my part, involve a certain amount of spying through the window!)
Tomorrow, the real thing, will last a little longer AND involve feeling hungry, trying to eat fruit as part of the new breakfast routine*, and being confronted with a bottle that I've still got to get ready. Now.

We do cooperate with fruity breakfasts training. She likes her apples - and here's a video, too!

So. Farewell, carefree days. Two outfits are laid out, two bags are packed, a last pre-reality-kick-in blog has been written. There we go.

Tara facing a step up on the ladder of life. Her outlook: positive and hopeful. And, by God, CUTE!

* Somehow 'routine' sounds much better when it's not me but the nursery training her up!

Mr. Snowman Ain't Edible

Snowbaby bear met Mr. Snowman aka grape eye jr. (mummy had no pebbles and rejected the red screwdriver and coins that Jose helpfully provided). She got her little hands on the man and did not try to stuff him in her mouth!
Behind the camera: daddy in slippers and pyjamas, fresh from a warm study with a desk full of phd corrections and finishing touches. Coooooold... but cool too!

The Sixiest Baby on the Block

Yeah, right, I was thinking whenever anyone told me to enjoy my time with my baby, as time flew and they grew so quickly. She looked so small and helpless, and time seemed to sit still rights there on that sofa with me. But people were right, of course. Time does fly, and my baby is such a big baby girl already; whenever I look back at old pictures and videos it is like that tiny thing is an entirely different baby altogether that only came to visit briefly, not to stay.
How will I feel when she toddles off to university in some 18 years, or to nursery in about ten days? Or more to the point really, how will she feel?

Mit ihren sechs Monaten ist das Knödelchen eine kleine Kuschelmaus, die am allerliebsten auf Mama sitzt und steht und parallel von Papa unterhalten wird. Stehen ist generell toll, sitzen nicht schlecht, und liegen müssen (oder schon wieder umgefallen sein) ist doof, findet Tara. Fast genau so doof wie angezogen werden und beim Abendessen nicht am Tisch sitzen zu dürfen (Teller! Greifen! Ablutschen!), sondern unterm Tisch im Wippstuhl. Da hilft nur eins: Jammern, Mama mit großen Augen angucken und die Arme ausstrecken; Nimm mich hoch, Mama! Papa will mich hier unten sitzen lassen, das ist gemein! Und es hilft. Mama schwächelt immer, wenn sie angejammert wird, und man kann das Essen ja auf der anderen Seite vom Teller in Sicherheit bringen. Oder?
Am glücklichsten ist Tara, wenn sie sich neue spannende Sachen in den Mund stecken kann. Ooooh, Tüten! Ooooh, Plastikhandschuhe! Ooooh, Papier! Ooooh, Mamas Zeitschriften! Gern auch Löffel, auf denen echtes Essen versteckt ist; was abgeht, wird halt einfach gegessen, und ob das nun Kartoffelbrei ist oder Papier mit lecker Farbstoff, ist da ganz nebensächlich. Es sind schon mehrere Fetzen Papier auf erkärlich Weise verschwunden, bevor die Fingerkommission es bis zum Gaumen geschaft hätte, auch wenn es den Knödel ein wenig würgt und ihr die Tränen in die Augen treibt.


La verdad es que Tara es un claro ejemplo de las leyes de la genetica de Mendel. Por una parte, le gusta comer, dormir, y de vez en cuando disfruta desordenando cosas o a ella misma en general. Esto ultimo va en contra de mi estricta educacion, basada en el metodo Vidal. Y es curioso, porque esto del "orden" es tambien genetico, de hecho yo lo he heredado de mi Sr. Padre. Debe ser que este gen salta una generacion, o quizas sea recesivo en la hembra de la especie.

Sin embargo, a diferencia de los guisantes del Sr. Mendel, Mini-yo muestra rasgos que son claramente vidalianos. A parte del hecho de ser calva (que todos esperamos que se mejore con el tiempo y nos quede rubica), esta su fascinacion por las cosas tecnologicas. Por ejemplo, esta
mañana cuando texteaba a Alex con el nuevo movil (el viejo murio, literalmente), alli estaba Tara con un "POR DIOS!! DEJAME QUE LO VEA DE CERCA Y LO CHUPE " en la mirada. Ni que decir tiene que no accediendo a sus peticiones, ella paso a su victima predilecta, mi ordenador. No se lo que le habra hecho el Sr. Toshiba, pero Tara no lo puede ni ver. Igual es un "acho papa, comprate uno nuevo y dame este pami!". No lo se, sea como sea, todo esto de la genetica es bastante complicado lo cual demuestra porque Mendel se centro en los guisantes.
Lo principal es que Tara parece feliz, y esto si debe ser heredado de sus padres.

The Things We Have

The time has come; it has happened as it eventually had to...

Tara has:
* Hair! Not much, but oh she's starting to look like a real little person.
* Mummy's g***f** cold, and as if bed island was a bad place, wants to live on mummy island all the time.

Mummy has:
* Not seen a friend for days, and just given up hope for the rest of the week.
* Got to go to nursery and pay the deposit for Tara to start this month as

Daddy has:
* been offered that job he left us alone all Monday for, and
* accepted with great levels of enthusiasm as it's a big foot in the right door.
* less hair than Tara, too, but who needs hair anyway when having been offered a proper job is so sexy already?!


And all of us, we have a future that's beginning to take shape now. It's exciting and scary at the same time, and with every new answer there are more questions too. Boo. Think about starting our social life all over, as if this one here hadn't been difficult enough. But think garden near the sea... Can we have a bit of sunshine? And a herb garden?

(original borrowed from here)

Keks Nummer 4

For a video of Tara's purple adventure, click here!

Der vierte Keks bröselte schneller als die vorigen, trieb Tara die Tränen in die Augen, und ein bischen würgen musste sie auch, die Gute.
Jose guckt mich scharf an, und sagt, als ob der Blick nicht schon alles gesagt hätte: "Dir ist ja wohl klar, was das heißt!" Natürlich ist mir klar, was das heißt, der Mann hat schließlich drei einhalb Kekse lang Erstickungsgefahr gepredigt. "Ja, Papi," sage ich also kleinlaut. "Keine leckeren Mondkekse mehr bis sie 9 Monate alt ist." Und zack stehen die leckeren teuren Kekse auf Joses Schreibtisch.


Aber nachdem Tara ja nun schon über die letzten Wochen fleißig Tischmanieren geübt hat und wenigstens schon ganz gut im Umgang mit Tellern ist, darf sie sich dafür an ihr erstes Gläschen machen, Bio Blaubeer Vanille Brulee von der schicken irischen Marke Kuh & Gatter (warum die wohl in Deutschland nicht bekannt sind?).

Und wie bei allem, was man sich in den Mund stecken kann - und das wäre also... ALLES - kennt ihr Enthusiasmus keine Grenzen, man könnte fast meinen, sie hätte ihre neue Leib- und Magenspeise entdeckt! (Das testen wir dann morgen mit dem nächsten Gläschen ab, ein viel versprechender gelblicher Kürbismusch.)



Dass der Löffel im Mamas Hand gehört, lernen wir noch, aber die Masse von Mush kam doch im Mund an (anklicken um ein Video zu sehen). Hmmmm... lecker! Andererseits hat sie im Anschluss mit dem gleichen Appetit ein Taschentuch und zwei Milchbusen verspeist und danach die Schokopappe in Angriff genommen. So genau weiß man das also nicht.




PS.: Brei in Jackenfarbe - clever, was?

Sandwich de 4500 personas!!

Hola, que taaal? Debido a los recientes acontecimientos, me han "sugerido" hacer un blog en español (Sorry about that! English readers, Alex will post something really cute tonight. By the way, THANK YOU to everybody who texted Alex this afternoon).
Lo siento por lo de las fotos pero hasta que Alex no ponga la "exclusiva" del primer potito de Tara, no hay nakacer. Como habran leido mas abajo, hemos estado muy liados especielmente un servidor, que entre la Tesis, buscar curro, cambiar pañales, y otros que haceres domesticos, no he tenido mucho tiempo ni ganas para estar por aqui.


Sin embargo, mas abajo habran leido tambien que ayer estaba yo de entrevista currelar y nervios en general. Y esta es la gracia, los señores del "Discovery Chemistry Team" de Pfizer me han dado el curro. Asi que a partir del 26F, pasare de cambiar pañales a diseñar farmacos en Sandwich, no el de comer si no uno que esta en Kent (ques una provincia mupijika al sureste de Londres). Y es que hay que hacer de to en la vida. La tesis esta tambien macoca, asi que para Marzo o asi deberia ser el Dr Vidal. Otra etiqueta de Anis del Mono en mi CV. Aunque la mejor noticia es que Tara ya se sienta solica!!!! Bueno, les voy dejando que tengo que pensar que voy a hacer de cena. Hasta la proxima.