Two!

Mr K is two and I’m not quite sure how it is we’re only here but here already.


Mr K. loves to run and he loves to get into things, especially the fridge. He’s noisy and energetic and eats everything well except vegetables. He speaks much more English than Japanese now, though still lots of single words and stock phrases (cars, Mama, Dada, juuuuuice, more, OH NO, how are you). He understands both languages to some degreee and we all keep figuring out how to understand him. 
He loves Thomas the Tank engine, but all trains really, cars, dogs, fish and flowers and “The Twirlywoos” are probably his favourite TV show, for now. He sings the Japanese version of “Twinkle, Twinkle” incessantly and he adores going outside, picking things up, dragging his umbrella around whatever the weather, and will go up and down the slide over and over again. His favourite toy depends on what day it is but he sleeps with his stuffed pig, Piggy, every night, he lugs his rubber ducks wherever he can, his car collection and battery-run Percy train provide no end of amusement and his ride-on Thomas is in no danger of losing his interest any time soon. 

We celebrated yesterday with presents, balloons and cake. He likes his new toys but the latter two were the big hits. He also got a typhoon to mark the occasion!

Happy birthday, Mr K. “Proud of you” doesn’t quite cover it.

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Autumn 2017

It’s September, late September. 

My fog-shrouded brain needs to remember that. I would like it to hurry up and not be September anymore because this month has been rough, but writing a list of 7s in the month column on K’s childcare schedule isn’t the solution to that. 

And whether you judge the seasons by the calendar, the equinox, or if you too are an optimistic UNIQLO retailer that realized everyone was sick of summer by early August and started stocking accordingly, it’s definitely autumn now. The days are getting steadily shorter, the light is turning more golden, there are autumn fruits and vegetables filling menus and supermarket shelves and the leaves are changing colour. There’s Halloween stuff everywhere and even though the temperature are still high, a wrap is becoming a good idea in the early morning and evenings. It’s very definitely autumn. 

Big baby, very small boy

 

 

Some of the supermarkets here leave out kid-sized baskets for the children to use. This is very evil of them.

My son is nearly 20 months old now and recently, I’ve started having startled moments where I look at him and no longer see a big baby but a very little boy. It’s not a huge change and he doesn’t metamorphose into something else overnight.

 

And yet he does too. All the time. Little changes and then they’re big changes after all and time goes so quickly really.

Mother’s Day 2017

Yesterday, I successfully navigated my second Mother’s Day. My own mother is lovely and R, despite not even noticing the occasion until a morning radio segment brought it to his attention, came through in the end and picked up some flowers and chocolates for me on Mr K’s behalf. 


I’m always a bit baffled by people who get pissy about these as a present choice. No, it doesn’t require much thought or effort. But flowers and chocolates are two of my favourite things!

I feel like I’m reading a lot more analysis of the whole Mother’s Day phenomenon this year, in defense of it and criticizing it. I suppose that’s unsurprising, given society tells us that mothering is the bestest, most important job in the whole world while simultaneously devaluing it at every turn. I wonder the whole working/stay at home thing is such a mindfuck. 

A lot of it has been frustrating to read, on both sides. I wish we could all just accept that parenthood is a big deal but not the only, all-defining deal. That mothers are people, no more and my God, no less. That working rights and sensible hours would be good for everyone, parents or not. That Mother’s Day is hard for some people and the reasons for that might vary greatly and be intensely private. That most of us know that it’s an overcommercialised load of bullshit, deviating far from its humble origins and that an epilator or – I’m looking at you, department stores of Japan – an apron are not the greatest gift ideas. 

I know.

But I’ve had only a handful of good nights of sleep in the last two years, wiped up a lot of body fluids and juggled a whole brunch of things that become a lot harder when you constantly have to work out what to do with a very small, dependent person in the mix. I just want to enjoy my cheap flowers and nice chocolates.