Being Baby Number Two: The Day in the Life of Olivia (Aged 15 months)
Yesssssss it’s the day of the week that Mummy and Daddy often groan about – Monday. Back to the routine; the 2.5 hour lunchtime sleep, playdates with people my own age and a little extra one-on-one time with Mummy whilst ‘inn’ (Finn) is at nursery. Hoorah, I love Mondays.
For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Olivia. I am sometimes referred to as ‘Livvy’ or ‘Little Sausage’ or ‘daaaarling’ in a earthy northern accent by my Daddy but my all time favourite name is ‘Wivia’ by my big brother ‘Inn’ (Finn). I do wonder if he is modeling himself on Jonathan Ross or if he hasn’t mastered the ‘O’ sound. Either way, he needs to spend more time practicing his ‘Jolly Phonics’. I am O L I V I A!!
Since before I was born, my life has been played out to you via Mummy’s blog; The pregnancy, the birth and a few of my first milestones. Mummy is quite good at keeping a lot of our lives out of social media, thank god. Yup no embarrassing naked shots to bite me on the bottom when I’m sixteen years.
One of Mummy’s friends said the blog will be a nice little keepsake for ‘Inn’ and I to look back on. Whilst, others think it’s a little selfish of my Mummy, documenting my life on social media for all to see. My Mummy says it’s no better than an open profile on Facebook, just without the uncensored bath pictures. (Mummy is responsible like that) . Mummy enjoys it and I love my picture being taken so win-win.
Being baby number two comes with its challenges – I have to shout a little louder than baby number one. I can be quite dramatic at times but a baby has got to do what a baby has got to do. I won’t get away with these meltdowns for long before I am put on the ‘thinking step’ or I am made to share – yuk. That said, I have been here for 15months and you would think by now that my parents and ‘Inn’ would understand what upsets me. I mean not having my nappy instantly changed after I have done a poop is a plausible reason for a mass meltdown, right? In case they are reading this, Mummy,
Daddy and ‘Inn, this is what really pushes my dummy;
- Late meal times
- Late nap times (come on Mummy, I need routine, even at the weekend)
- Not getting my milk
- Sitting in the buggy. I hate the buggy. I want to move around, so unless the buggy is in constant motion then I want out.
- The iPhone or iPad. I admit, I have no idea what to do with it apart from teethe on it but ‘Inn’ always looks like he is having so much fun and Mummy is permanently on hers. I want one too.
- Speaking of which, I want all of ‘Inn’s toys. His toys look cool, they move, they make noises. Infact, whilst we are on the subject of ‘Inn, I want his cool bed, his bedroom and his shoes. Yes, I said shoes. They are great for teething on and are fab for ‘dress up. Let me have them.
- Anyone touching my dollies. They are mine. I WILL NOT SHARE THEM. Infact, what is sharing???
- A dirty nappy. I’m a girl, I hate sitting in my own poop. It’s smelly and uncomfortable.
- My Mummy is mine. I do not wish to share her with ‘Inn’, Daddy or anyone else.
- The cats. I love the cats (abit like that Dad Blogger Jamie Day), I love them so much that ‘Cat’ was even one of my first words. They are cute and fluffy and are dying to be cuddled, but why do they always run away from me? I cant understand it. Can anyone explain??
On the flip side, I have mastered the art of pointing, big grins, big cuddles and then occasional dramatic scream. These are my tools to getting me what I want. I have often heard Mummy use the word ‘Manipulative’ but I am sure that’s a word that means she loves my big cuddles & grins. After all, she always gives in.
Lets talk about meal times. I think of these like one of my messy play sessions. I am still mastering the ability to use a fork so using my hands is the next best thing. Infact, I love eating with my hands, there is no better way to eat yoghurt than to lick it off your fingers, rub it into your hand, your eyes and your clothes. I hate it when my Mummy try’s to clean me up, I’m happy with the yoghurt emblazoned across my cheeks. It just means I can have some more later.
Speaking of food my Mummy’s cooking is okay, although on occasion her Joe Wicks adapted meals taste foul. She likes to put her own spin on things by adding a can of tomatoes here or a glug of Worcestershire there and she has no idea about her over use of basil. I’m fairly certain she thinks she is a Annabel Karmel version of Nigella.
When we sit down for tea, I always want what ‘Inn’ and Mummy have. There is not one ounce of mush on their plate and it also looks so colourful and appetizing, whereas mine looks like cat sick. When can I sprinkle rock salt and smother my chips in tomato sauce?
Grandparents are ace. They are the less sensible version of Mummy and Daddy but better. All you need to do is smile a lot at them and give them ample tea breaks to get the best out of them. If I had to choose anyone above my Mummy, it would be Nanna. She plays with me, sings to me and makes me laugh! She is actually funny. She is all round good crack. She gets me, she knows I like chocolate and lots of it, she gives me unlimited milk, we go to bed on time and her sixth sense knows when I want my bum wiped. She is magic. Everyone should get yourself a Nanna.
I might have mentioned that I love my Mummy and yes her culinary skills are an acquired taste but I’ll let her off as she is the best at bedtime. She reads me the best stories, she gives yummy cuddles and she stays with me until I fall asleep. I hate it when Mummy has one of her nights out as it means Daddy has to do bedtime. He will sit there for hours singing & humming when all I want to do is sleep.
He also thinks he is comedy genius but HE IS NOT FUNNY. Just because he works in comedy he thinks he has a licence to tell awful jokes or make up amusing songs. That said, his singing is like the comedy act on the X-Factor.
Oh Daddy, stick to the day job my sheepish grin is only ever down to wind. One day, you’ll realise that.
Until next time folks.