Dev quotes, part 2

Devin likes to have a turn at my make-up when he sees it, so I put a tiny bit of powder on a brush for him to use on his cheeks. One day he examined the brush and decided he didn’t want it any more, so I told him to brush it on my cheeks.
“There. Nice and dorgeous,” he declared when he was done.
I didn’t know he even knew that word.

Dev: “Yook, a planet! A planet!”
Liss: “Oh, a planet.”
Dev: “Venus, it’s Venus! Venus! Venus!”
Liss: “Yes, Venus.”
Dev: “Venus coming, too. Him coming home with us.” (Because we were in the car and Venus was ‘following’ us.)
This was his reaction every time, as if each evening he was just astounded that Venus was there. Again.

“I take a picture of your… butt.”

Walking home from feeding our neighbours’ dogs, Devin told me out of the blue,
“Your name is Dewey.”
“Dewey? Um. Ok,” I said. (No idea where ‘Dewey’ came from.)
“You name sister.”
“Yes. There’s a baby in your belly?” He gave my tummy a pat.
“Uh, no Devy, there isn’t.”
“Yes! There IS a baby in your belly!”

Matter-of-factly – “You’re not a dog, you’re Daddy.”

As I was  rubbing cream on his cheeks –
“What’s that?”
“It’s stuff for your dry skin, to make it soft.”
“Oh, yuck.”

After reading Tree Ring Circus –
Devin: “I read a book. Where the beginning?”
Flick, flick. There it is.
Devin: “Hmm… I tan’t sure what it is.”
Liss: “It says, ‘One seed in the ground, three miles out of town.'”
Devin: “Ohhh, that what you mean.”
Devin: “This is difficult.”

Having told me earlier that he loves doing hard work –
Dev: “Bye.”
Liss: “Bye. Are you off to do more hard work?”
Dev: “Yes. Because I’m a man.”
Liss: “Hm.”
Dev: *hops on tricycle* “I’m going to ride on my big bike.”
Again, I don’t know where this ‘because I’m a man’ business has come from.

Devin: “You be a fire engine.”
Liss: “Ok.”
Devin walks away.
Liss: “Hang on, what are you going to be?”
Devin: “I be a person sitting here watching.”

“No, I have not two legs!” (In response to me asking if he would walk.)

Devin: “Delicious.”
Liss: “Your banana is delicious?”
Devin: “Yes. Everybody knows it.”
Liss: “Devin, you can’t open your door from the inside because the child lock is on. That’s because little boys and girls sometimes like to open their doors when their mummies and daddies are driving.”
Devin: “Everybody knows it. ”

Dev: “What’s his name?”
Liss: “Well, it’s a Triceratops…”
Dev: “His name is Mummy.”

Watching me clean the rice cooker –
Dev: “Why you cleaning it?”
Liss: “Well, Devin, you tell me, why do we clean things?”
Dev: “Uhhh…. *silence*… I have two thumbs.”

And various other common phrases –
“But um…”
“That’s mines!”
“So what’s your plan?”
“Diggy hup.” (Giddy-up)
“Wallace and Gumpit/Dumpit.” (Wallace and Gromit)
“I stay here my own self.”
An “ayg” is an egg, a “borsch” is a brush, but a “paint brusher” is a paintbrush. Milk is “malk”, DVD is “deebee deebee”, and ant is “aunt” because he pronounces plant the same way as Jene (plahnt).
And “wocka-ded” is his own made-up word that he uses when he’s being silly.

Not that he would know anything about that…


Dev quotes, part 1

I walked into Devin’s room to get him up from his nap and was greeted with –
“There was a booger!”
“Oh, was there?”
“Yes, a HUGE booger!” *arms out wide*
“Can you breathe better now?”
*sniffs* “Yes, I can!”
One minute later, as I was trying to get him dressed –
“I just show you Spider-Man’s bottom… Look, there’s Spider-Man’s bottom!”
“Oh, yes, so it is.”
“It’s a funny bottom.”

Liss: “Are you still going with your breakfast?”
Dev: “No, not breakfast.”
Liss: “What is it, then?”
Dev: “A bagel.”

“Oops, sorry, bagel!”

Watching an off-road truck video…
Dev: “What’s that?”
Liss: “It’s going over a big ditch.”
Dev: “Ah… Another big bitch.”

While making ANZAC biscuits, after I told him that we would have to bake the mixture in the oven –
“No, not make biscuits any more. Just eat all the rest of it like that.”

“My doodness! Yook at all this stuff!”

Me to Devin: “No, you can’t wear toast, you have to wear shoes.”

Erinn: “Devy, you’re crazy.”
Devin: “Yes, I am.”
My mum: “No, Aunty Erinn is crazy.”
Erinn: “No, I’m not.”
Devin: “Yes, you are.”
Erinn: “No, I’m not.”
Devin: “Yes, you are.”
Upon hearing this story –
Liss: “Who is crazy, Devin?”
Devin: “That’s Aunty Erinn!”

Liss: “Devin, why are all these oranges in the front yard?”
Dev: “For the magpies to eat.”
Liss: “Oh.”

Devin asked what his ribs were, so I explained that they were bones that protect his lungs and heart. I said his lungs help him breathe, and his heart pumps blood around his body, then put his hand over his chest and asked if he could feel it thumping.
After a few moments he said, “Yes, I can!” And then, “Maybe there’s a baby in my heart.”

While in the car –
Dev: “What’s this song talled?”
Jene: “It’s called A Virtual Lovestory.”
Dev: “Huh?”
Jene: “A Virtual Lovestory.”
Dev: “What you say?”
Liss: “It’s called Devin is Cool.”
Dev: “Devin is Tool.”
Liss: “Yep.”
Dev: “Ohhh. Devin is Toooool.”

Seeing me in a new jacket –
“Oooh, that’s a pitty new jacket!”

Dev: “I’m writing a list. For dinner.”
Liss: “You’re writing a shopping list?”
Dev: “Yes. Lunch… dinner… lunch, dinner for baby… How much for baby?”
Liss: “Um, well, babies don’t eat much, so not much.”

After putting my thongs/flip flops on his feet –
“I”m a doctor!”

All I want for Christmas…

Recently, we had a little incident. It involved Devin’s teeth and his metal bed frame. And you’re already wincing, aren’t you?

As a reminder, this is what his teeth looked like before, in all their gappy glory –

And this is their current status –

His two front teeth were pushed upwards, back into the gum. Yes. Ouch, indeed.

A quick visit to the dentist revealed there wasn’t anything to be done – there shouldn’t be any lasting damage, and the teeth should move back down in their own time. It was, to say the very least, a relief. Obviously, I’m leaving out some details from the middle of the story.

And funnily enough, my youngest sister endured the same injury (to a worse extent) at a similar age, in the backyard on her tricycle. I remember seeing it happen, just that exact moment… But she has perfectly normal teeth now, and she doesn’t remember the event.

Parenting, man. It’s not for the squeamish.

For two.

We go to the indoor playground fairly regularly, because there’s not a whole lot else to do here. It’s a bit dilapidated, but I suppose it’s more exciting than being at home for Devin. At least until we install the giant slides and tunnels…

I order a cappuccino when we’re there, and a milkshake or juice for Devin. Lately, though, he’s been more interested in the froth on my coffee, and while I’m perfectly happy to share my food with him… hey, sometimes I want some of that froth, too.
So a few weeks ago, I swallowed all of my preconceived ideas and a bit of my pride, and ordered a babycino for Devin.
You know how opinions form in your head and get stuck without you really thinking about them? I try not to let that happen, but trivial little things like this can slip past. And my opinion was that babycinos were ridiculous and unnecessary.
But they’re not. They’re fantastic. Especially when they’re 65 cents and come with two big marshmallows.

But this isn’t a post about hot drinks. It’s about what Devin does with the marshmallows.

He shares with me. Without being asked.

I’ve never asked for a marshmallow, but he always gives me one.

I don’t know if I can convey how awesome I think that is. I get proud tears.

Little things like that are what keep parents going, I think. Moments that bolster confidence and reassure that you’re doing a good job. That he is doing a good job. That really, everything is ok.

I don’t really like marshmallows, by the way, but I eat the ones he gives me. They taste better.

A toddler of few words.

As a person, I worry a lot. The things I worry about and the extent that I worry about them mean I would probably be officially diagnosed with anxiety.

But, as a parent, I am surprisingly easy-going. I don’t keep an eagle eye on milestones, I don’t really compare Devin to other kids, and I don’t fret if he happens to eat something off the floor. And generally, he hasn’t really given me much cause to worry – the only times my anxiety really switches on in regard to his development and well-being is when I read too much. I tend to be uptight about whatever it happens to be this time (eating more vegetables, reading more books, doing more puzzles, saying more words etc…) for a day or two, and then I realise that I’m not really helping and there was nothing wrong to ‘fix’ in the first place.

And now comes another but.

I am becoming more preoccupied with his speech. Or specifically, his rather small vocabulary, which currently consists of Dad, ice (eyesh), Poppy (puh-pah), Mum (mum or mem), apple (appah – and every fruit is an appah), and most recently, bye.
‘Bye’ was actually kind of funny – Devin was leaving with my mum and sister to go shopping, and after he waved and stepped out the door I heard a little voice say, “Bye!” I froze, looked at my sister who was still inside, and asked, “Was that Devin?!” Yep, sure was. I hadn’t heard him say any words so clearly before, let alone an attempt to say ‘bye’, so to hear it come from his mouth in perfect English was extremely surprising. I was so shocked that my heart was racing for a few minutes afterwards.
Now, everything and everyone gets a ‘bu-byyyye!’ when they leave his line of sight.

He seems to be trying to say ‘car’ and ‘truck’, too, though I can’t recall right now what it sounds like. It’s almost like he’s mashing the two together, or deciding that all cars and trucks are close enough to being the same thing that he can use one word for everything with wheels.

And, though he doesn’t say it in a way that is even remotely like English, he does say ‘thank you’ whenever he is given something. It sounds a bit silly to say that – ‘he says it, but he doesn’t say it’. But I know. Sometimes he takes a sip of a drink, for instance, before remembering that he hasn’t said ‘thank you’, so he quickly pulls the cup away, smiles at me and says it. And I always respond with, ‘you’re welcome.’ I’m really pleased that he’s doing this without being prompted, actually. Up until he started doing it himself, I’d hand him something while saying, ‘thank you, Mum’, then follow with ‘you’re welcome, Devy’ when it was in his hands. Also, Jene and I have always said ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ often to each other. But, for whatever reason, I thought it would be a long time before Devin really picked up on it.

There are things that ease my mind. Devin babbles a lot, he makes noises when he’s playing, he knows animal noises and machine noises, he groans with imagined exertion whenever we say ‘heavy’, he recognises a lot of what we say, and he sings along to music. He’s also started to occasionally say, ‘naaah-oh’ (no) when he recognises that something isn’t quite right – like when we were lining up his little cars and he put an aeroplane in the line.

When I lay everything out like that, I feel more relaxed. It’s just a little hard not to wonder if something isn’t quite right when many 2 year olds have vocabularies up to 100 words (or more) and are stringing them together into basic sentences. It’s also hard to know when comparing is just causing undue worry, and when it might actually be helpful…

A mother’s heart.

I’ve always been a bit sensitive, in all aspects – physical, emotional, sensory, psychological. Since becoming pregnant with Devin, I (like many/most mothers) have found that I have a hair-trigger reaction to anything that is even vaguely emotional. I can tear up at a particularly joyous Facebook update, so you can imagine what it’s often like for me to encounter things that are sad.

I can’t watch crime shows any more, fictional or real-life. Well, truthfully, the only one I watched with regularity was Criminal Minds. I actually really liked it. Now, I don’t even think about watching it. If you know it, you know how horrible the crimes it portrays can be, and that they often involve children and families. So, no way. I’d be awake all night. I overheard it on TV recently –  my mum was watching it (she’s also really into true crime, which I just can’t fathom at this point) – and I’m not even going to type what was happening. Just listening was too much. I had also built up a resistance to violence by virtue of the fact that the movies and television shows I was interested in were often quite brutal or gory – not that I went looking for that, it’s just that violence is so prevalent. Now, if Jene wants to watch a movie, my first question is, “Is it violent?”, and even if he’s seen it before and can tell me when to look away, I’m pretty hesitant. We’ve been watching Game of Thrones together, which is a violent TV series based on a very violent and confronting book series. I enjoy them both, but I wouldn’t be nearly as relaxed while watching the show if I hadn’t read the book first and knew when something graphic was coming up. (I haven’t finished the book yet, but I just have to keep ahead of what we’re up to in the show.)

I can barely stand to watch the news. If it’s not making me feel absolutely livid with the whole world, it’s making me feel desperately, hopelessly sad. There have been a few stories recently involving children that have made me feel physically ill, let alone the current horrendous barrage of natural disasters, human rights atrocities, war, poverty…

When you’re pregnant, you will probably be bombarded with everything from ‘it’s the greatest thing you will ever do’ to ‘say goodbye to freedom’, but rarely, if ever, will anyone tell you what becoming a parent will do to your heart. Because, basically, it will break it.
When I had Devin I suddenly had a lot more to lose in life, and, left alone with him that first night, I cried for a long time. I kept thinking, “what have I done?”
Don’t get me wrong, I certainly wasn’t regretting anything. It just felt, even at that point when I was still more in shock than love, that someone had taken a chunk of my soul and put it in another tiny, living, sentient thing. Outside of my body. Where I couldn’t protect it always.

So not only does the thought of anything bad happening to him fill me with unspeakable dread and horror, but I also feel guilty for bringing him into a world that I don’t have a lot of confidence in. It’s hard. It’s a tough place, and it’s not getting easier, and because I’m a Natural Born Worrier, I can work myself up into a real state thinking about his future.
Not long ago, I climbed into bed and ended up a hiccuping, blubbering mess as I poured my worries out to Jene. I had, as I am wont to do, put the weight of the entire world on my shoulders, and my fears were things like, “One day there won’t be enough land to sustain human food consumption”; “It’s bad enough now – what if Devin can’t afford electricity at all?”; “What if society deteriorates to a point where Devin’s kids, or their kids, their kids… have to fight for survival?”; “I feel like things are moving forward but aren’t getting better. Like everything has peaked, and now my offspring and everyone after them has to live with it”.
Jene stroked my hair and basically told me to stop being silly – They might be valid concerns, but lying awake at night worrying about them isn’t going to achieve anything. And that’s the thing about anxiety, isn’t it? You can tell a chronic worrier to stop it because it’s pointless, and they know that, but they can’t stop it.

If I could sum it up in an unavoidably schmaltzy way… It’s like everyone I’ve loved has a place in my heart, but Devin… he is my heart. A part of not just me, but Jene too, and we can’t keep it safely inside –  it roams free.

It’s incredibly hard to describe, incredibly wonderful, and incredibly heartbreaking.

“Oh, goodness me.”

Those are the words that have been coming from my mouth lately when Devin is having a case of the Terribles. Like on this day, where he refused to keep walking or be carried, and rubbed his hat in the dirt about three seconds after this picture.

I’m a person, and yes, I swear. Often. I say bad words to emphasise what I’m saying, whether it’s something positive or negative. But I definitely do not want my child to repeat any of those words. Ideally, he wouldn’t even know of them for many years to come, but I’m not completely naive. I know what kids are like lately, though I still find it absolutely repulsive when I hear young children swearing.

I am waiting for the day that Devin repeats a word and I’ll have to try and explain that it’s not very nice, but in the meantime, I really try to watch what I say around him. And what music I listen to. I had a certain song by Tool on one day (track #7 on Ænima), and I suddenly became very aware of the lyrics, and of Devin in the room, and I kind of froze. (You can look up the lyrics, I don’t need to write them here.)

So I realised today that I had almost subconsciously started saying things like ‘goodness me, Devin’ and ‘for goodness sake!’ Sometimes I let out a fricking, frigging, frakking etc. Sometimes I slip up completely. I say ‘gosh’ a lot, but that’s been going on for a long time.

Sooooo… Conclusions were always the part of essays I despised the most. I’m inclined to just tell you that Jene is eager for me to start reading A Game of Thrones so that we can watch the upcoming series together, and I would like that too, so I’m going to go to bed and do that. Start reading. Ok.