Saturday, 2 October 2010

The Valley of the Dolls.

I am writing this post at 04.30 because I woke up with horrendous indigestion like I have a pine-cone lodged in my throat and am just trying to settle it with a big glass of squash. Hopefully, I will be able to go back to sleep when I get back to bed... listening to my 'Hypnobirthing' exercises on the ipod should do it.

I have done a bit of reading about how to minimise the impact of a new baby on your toddler. There are various ideas such as presenting Freya with a toy from the baby when they first meet. Small Ninky Nonk purchased and wrapped- check. One of the suggestions was to purchase a doll for the toddler to involve her in some of the activities that you'll be doing over the next few months. While you change nappies she can do the same etc. Judging by Freya's behaviour, activities will also include dragging the baby round by the hair and beating it with it's own hairbrush.


Choosing a doll wasn't easy or cheap- there are so many choices. One of the dolls at the Early Learning Centre was a newborn- yuk. The only good thing about newborns is that they grow out of looking like Eartha Kitt quickly, that plastic monstrosity will be with you looking like that for years- no Ta. I decided to go with a name from my past, 'Tiny Tears'. It wets itself and silently cries while doing it but I have chosen not to fill it with water just yet. I think she is cute looking. We have a little bag with it for changing, feeding and playing. I am made up.

Craig is not. He is disturbed by its cold dead eyes staring at us from it's little pushchair while we watch TV at night. When you have grown up with Marrie-Lou (pronounced Mah-ree Loo) no doll can ever scare you again. Marrie-Lou is my mum's doll from way back when. It smells. You could go into a room and pinpoint its location in the back of a cupboard just using your olfactory centre. It is made out of some nasty rubber which has begun to perish. Alarmingly, it's weighted eyeballs no longer stay in it's sockets and so fall back into it's head. Now those are the cold dead eyes of a killer.


We had a clear out at Belgrave a while a go and found Marrie-Lou and decided to reunite her with my mother. The rubber has started some weird process of melting at room temperature so she initially spent her time in the fridge. If that didn't stop me and my dad sneaking chocolate out of the fridge then nothing will.


Mum loves her to bits, proved by the fact that she nibbled a lot of her fingers off as a child. I suppose I am lucky to be typing right now. It sounds weird biting things that you love but I used to feel that way about baby Moomin's nose.


This is what what mum is currently reading. Need I say more about cold dead eyes of a killer. See Craig, Tiny Tears is positively pleasant.

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