When I was five weeks pregnant with Hazel, an ultrasound revealed no heartbeat and haemorrhaging; the doctor explained that it looked as though I was probably having another
miscarriage. I was told to return the following day for a confirmation
ultrasound and to plan for whatever came next. The next afternoon, the sonographer exclaimed, “There’s a heartbeat!” and I promptly burst into profoundly shocked/relieved/confused/disbelieving tears.
It may seem odd to start a
birthday post with talk of blood and hospitals, but I mention it because every
now and then I catch myself watching Hazel and marvelling at the fact it was her tiny, hopeful heartbeat that
astonished me way back in 2012. She’s HERE! She MADE IT! I’m amazed by her
aliveness in a way I haven’t been with Moses (who contentedly set up camp in my
uterus and fooled me into thinking that staying pregnant was an easy task for
me to accomplish).
This is Hazel starting out
her year as a 1 year old:
(Lots of fun, but only one game.) |
Earlier
this week I measured Hazel’s height against our height-recording bookshelf, and
after drawing the line and pulling away the book (which had been resting on Hazel’s
head [this is a completely foolproof process]), I noticed this:
So that was cool! Okay, maybe only for me.
So that was cool! Okay, maybe only for me.
Two-year-old Hazel hasn’t changed much from 16-month-old Hazel or 19-month-old Hazel: she still loves dandelions, she’s still affectionate and fun, and she still loves puzzles and drawing (on both paper and non-paper surfaces). On top of this she’s added some new talents, such as climbing, running, asking questions, catching a ball, and losing texta lids. She’s confident, cheeky, observant, easy-going, patient, playful, curious, and a joy to hang out with.
Hazel loves dancing (most
frequently requested: Shake it Off by
Taylor Swift). She loves playing with
water, especially when bubbles are involved. She loves strawberries, and swinging at the park. She loves having her
hand stamped at the library. She loves babies. She loves being helpful. She likes bows, goggles and sunglasses. She has
approximately seven all-time-favourite tops to wear, which means every morning
is the best time ever!!! because she
gets to choose and put one on, and every evening is the worst time ever!!!!! because she has to take a beloved top
off again. She does not understand the concept of “doing laundry,” and is always
devastated (de.va.sta.ted) when one of
her tops needs washing. She also refuses to wear jumpers over the top
of whichever top she’s chosen (for that will cover them up, thus depriving the world
of their splendour), and it takes some serious negotiating and/or an icy wind
for her to let us rug her up without drama. She enjoys chasing birds, jumping in
puddles, eating (cooked) carrots, patting dogs, and pooing in the bath. She
does not like having her nails cut, getting
undressed at bathtime, seeing one of her tops heading for the washing basket,
or the fact that she is not allowed to eat dessert until she’s finished all of
her dinner.
Hazel calls all male
strangers “Michael.” When she and Mo are allowed to watch TV, Hazel throws up
her arms in celebration and yells, “Tee bee!!!” before speeding to the couch (it’s
both cute and concerning). Her favourite show is The Wiggles. Her favourite Wiggle is Emma. While watching, she and
Mo sit as close together as possible and snuggle (I’ll provide photo evidence
of this in Mo’s birthday post at the end of the month). Her favourite
books are two Play School nursery rhyme books Mamachi gave her, which we’ve now
read approximately 13 bazillion times, and Wibbly
Pig Can Dance by Mick Inkpen. Hazel likes carefully putting things into
bigger things (pencils into a box, sand into a bucket, blocks into a bag, Duplo
into a saucepan, marbles into a container, etc.) and can spend long and happy
chunks of time transferring each small thing to the bigger thing one at a time,
and then transferring them out of the big thing once again. Her favourite game
to play, however, is Shops.
Lately, when I’ve asked her
how much my bananas will cost, she tells me, “Two weeks.”
Hazel
is a teeny scientist. She’s fascinated by how things work. (We therefore freak out when we realise she’s been silent for a while, and we can’t see her.) Her
favourite experiments are “I wonder what will happen if I pour this water
here?” and “I wonder whether the wall would look more interesting if I
scribbled on it with this particular texta?” Each of these tests has been performed
rigorously, using various vessels, liquids, floors, textas and walls, with different results. She’s still oddly fascinated by eyeballs, and likes babies
especially because they seem to be the only ones who mostly let her poke
theirs. She also likes touching peoples’ ears. Sometimes, when everything’s a
bit boring, she grabs a handful of Mo’s skin and twists it, just to see how
loudly he’ll wail this time. The world is a very interesting place for Hazel.
She is constantly asking, “Why?” (Even though her last vaccination was months
ago, she still seems to be recovering from it. “Why needle?” she asks,
repeatedly. Our explanations about protection and herd immunity seem to fall on
deaf ears.) I popped into the room to sneakily take this photo of Hazel playing in the cubby house she and Mo had built, and it
wasn’t until I was back in the kitchen and looking at my shot that I realised
Hazel was so content in there because SHE’D TAKEN A GLASS OF
WATER WITH HER:
By the time I’d dashed back
to the room, she’d already dipped in both of Roary’s feet.
Apart from her random attacks
on Mo (he’s regularly sporting a fresh scratch somewhere on his face), she is
kind and empathetic. As we wander around in parks, shopping
centres, and libraries, she notices and points out other kids who are crying
(“Mummy! Baby, sad”), and seems to worry about them until they’re okay again or
we walk out of earshot. If Mo’s upset, she’ll follow him into his room and sit
with him while he cries. I once found Mo on his bed dolefully explaining the
reason for his distress while Hazel patted his back and mirrored his sad facial
expressions (it made me smile; I had to look the other way so that Mo wouldn’t misinterpret my amusement). Hazel’s often the one who’ll find a way to
snap Mo out of his grumpiness; she has various ways of making him smile. (She
also has various ways of making him frown.) She spends a lot of time observing
and copying Mo (older and wiser! must learn ways!), and has recently started
involving herself in stories he’s recounting by repeating – in whatever tone he’s
using – the key words of whatever he’s telling us.
Mo: And then we saw a dog catch a stick!!!
H [excited]: Dog! Stick!
Mo: But then he fell into a hole and got stuck.
H [sad]: Hole. Stuck.
She also listens intently to, and makes sure she is
included in, all of Mo’s negotiations so she doesn’t accidentally miss out on
anything he may receive:
Mo: Can I please have two pieces?
H: Hazel! Two!
Mo: Can I actually have four pieces?
H: Hazel! Four!
Mo: Can I have a hundred pieces?
H: Hazel! Hunna!
Bedtime kisses. |
This is what Hazel did when
I asked her to show me her happy face:
This is what Hazel did when
I asked her to show me her sad face (compare these with Mo at two):
This is what Hazel did when I asked her to show me her excited face:
And this is Hazel showing me
her actual grumpy face (though I hadn’t asked to see it):
This is Hazel when she
is overwhelmed (she regularly takes time outs face down on the floor):
Not. Coping. Need. Moment. |
She’s very ticklish under
her chin and under her arms (Mo discovered the latter in the bath not long ago).
Deflating balloons also crack her up.
I’m not sure how to end
this summary of Hazel at two; I feel like I could - or should - go on and on, in the hope that writing will somehow freeze Hazel
at this age, unable to age until the post is done (that’s how it works, right?). Alas, the post is done, and
Hazel will continue to grow up, probably far too quickly. She is already two. She will never be one again. *sniffles*
Hazel, Hazely-woo, Hazy-Belle,
She-Who-Currently-Hath-No-Decent-Nickname: You are sooooooo loved. Happy birthday, my darling.
Happy Birthday Hazel.x
ReplyDeleteI cried reading this because it's just the most perfect summary of my little friend Hazel.
ReplyDelete