Bold

Cupcake has a new favourite word. We are not really sure where it came from except we do know that her father said it to her months ago when she was doing something she shouldn't have been.

Imagine this: I am newly installed on my 'kitchen bed', lazing around like Jabba the Hut in Return of the Jedi. Cupcake cautiously approaches Mama and her purple casted leg. She hands me a hair barrette to put in her hair. I am attempting to gather her hair into a neat looking style when she turns and messes up my handiwork. "Darling, you can't move otherwise you will mess up your hair." She turns to me and smacks me lightly on the arm. "Bold, Mama, bold." Husband and I turn to one another with slight incomprehension. Did she just tell Mama she was bold? Where did she learn that word? Oscar was the next target of her annoyance. He was told he was bold, and justifiably so, after he trotted over and stole whatever bread item she was waving around.

I conferred with Nana, who incidentally was similarly puzzled at the appearance of this new word. She had notice Cupcake shouting at the couch in an authoritative fashion, waving her arms and squawking away when she identified she was shouting "Bold, bold!"

Now everything is bold- Mama, Dada, Lulu, Oscar, the table, Mama's bed, the floor, toys, etc. But the worst part is I think it is hysterically funny. Especially when she pairs it with her narrowed eyes "Grandma-Marge-I'll-get-you-later" glare. I do tell her not to hit when she says it and then I ask her why (fill in the blank) is/has been bold. She doesn't really answer that but rather just keeps repeating it like a little parrot.

Now confession time: I have been bold. This broken ankle really got me down last week. I laid around on my kitchen bed with my leg elevated feeling sorry for myself. This week I am trying to change my attitude, after all I have a ton of work to do. Yes this is a weird, random, freak thing that happened to me. And yes I will be spending the bulk of my time at home with my leg elevated. And finally yes it is painful and I have some physio ahead of me. But if I don't stop feeling sorry for myself I will let that attitude infect my whole outlook. I keep saying that when life knocks me down I pick myself back up. Now I have to do just that. I guess cupcake was right, I have been bold!

A Canary

Sometimes when I look at my little one I struggle to find a characteristic that reflects me. People often comment just how much she looks like her father. Once someone told me, "If she didn't come out of your body I wouldn't think she was yours." How I am supposed to respond to a comment like that... thanks? Yes, she is the "image" of her father. In the early days his family thought there were similarities between her and my father and sister. But since I have spent 41 weeks carrying her around inside me and the last 13 months nurturing her, very lovingly might I add, I want to know that there is something about me in her. I mean isn't this one of the (many) reasons people reproduce? They want a little miniature version running around. I know that sound might sound very selfish but if you had a kid who was nothing like you it would be a little disappointed right? Yesterday my husband was talking to my parents and he said "she definitely has the same temper." Yes! I thought to myself, something that was identifiably ME! Wait, a temper isn't exactly the best quality you want to hand down to your child. But it is undeniable, she does have a very strong temper. Take the remote control away or stop her from doing something annoying/that could potentially cause harm and wow you get it full blast. The Irish have a curious phrase, it's called "having a canary". I've been trying to think what we would call it at home - maybe we would say "having a cow?" - a phrase synonymous with Bart Simpson, but I think we really did say that. I suppose I'd better keep searching for that part of me that is a little bit more flattering to pass on.