The thought
On Monday, Rory turns two and officially moves out of babyhood. I know most parents mourn the passing of the infant years – the physical closeness, the bonnets, the gummy toothless smiles. But I have to admit that age two is much more my speed. Is it terrible to say that tiny babies aren’t your bag? (especially when you’re about to have another one?) Anyway, don’t answer that, let’s focus on the positives.
In short, you will not find me crying over the end of the helpless years, because I’m so enamoured with this new phase: our two-way conversation era. After that long slog where you just give endlessly of yourself and make deposit after deposit with no promise of repayment, there’s a miraculous change and daily dividend checks start arriving in the form of a growing vocabulary and emerging personality.
There’s a parenting book by Jennifer Senior that describes the ‘paradox of modern parenthood’ as ‘all joy and no fun’. For me, that was an accurate picture of the first eighteen months. It was mostly hard work, punctuated by moments of complete bliss and wonderment. But this – this really IS fun.
I love that, in the morning, I ask him whether he wants milk and he says “YEP”. I love that I can hold up two different snacks and he can tell me which one he wants. I really love that he says ‘mama’ twenty times in a row because he’s so excited to show me the moon. We have a “jumping” song and, when it comes on, we jump until it’s over. And when he sees dog shit, he says “poo poo” and then “blegh”. See? Fun!
Yes, he has tantrums (which are actually quite funny if you’re in a certain mood) and it’s like Chernobyl if you try to get him to wear a coat. But I would take this phase over childbirth, mastitis and weaning ANY DAY. I mean, my child can now help me unload the dishwasher, for God’s sake.
So, long live the not-so-terrible-twos. You laugh daily, get genuinely excited when you see a tractor, and even get some child labour out of them.
And for anyone currently in the first year of motherhood who is wondering what happened to the fun in life, just hold on. In what feels like no time, you’ll be pointing at poo together in the park and pretending to throw up. It’s better than it sounds, I promise.
The thing
‘Tis the season to… wish you had Shiv Roy’s bank account. There are just so many cosy things to covet (that’s what Christmas is about, yes?)
But, beware of the Christmas cashmere. The quality is diabolical and going down rapidly. I recently bought a sweater from La Ligne and the shop lady told me to invest in a sweater de-bobbler as I was paying. I found it such a strange admission! Only low-quality cashmere bobbles. I suppose we just accept this now.
The Atlantic has summed up the state of knitwear with a brilliantly-titled article, Your Sweaters Are Garbage, in which they quote a tweet by a comedian which went viral and, coincidentally, did kick off a national conversation: “The quality of sweaters has declined so greatly in the last twenty years that I think it genuinely necessitates a national conversation.”
So, with all the well-known brands failing us, where to go to find the Robert Redford fisherman sweaters of yore? I actually do know the answer to this, but you’re not going to like it. You must go to Scotland for cashmere, or at least buy Scottish-made. Otherwise, buy good-quality wool. It will not feel as buttery as that Theory sweater you felt in Saks (price: $595, cost of production: $0.25), but it’s going to last you all the Christmases of your life, no sweater shaving required!
Thank you for listening to my cashmere rant.
The thinker
Today’s ‘thinkers’ are all cosy, wintry recipes. This section makes absolutely no sense. I know. I’m sorry.
Alison Roman’s recipe for 12-hour slow-cooked lamb, which I cannot wait to make and bask in complements.
The Defined Dish’s Creamy Turkey and Wild Rice Soup (sub rotisserie chicken for ease).
An Apple and Blackberry Crumble. Just use frozen blackberries.
Thank you so much for reading and happy snuggle season! xx
I agree on all counts!