An update on your Talipes (Clubfoot)

It's weird. When you were born I didn't take any photos of your feet. Other parents on Talipes groups and forums took lots of pictures and shared and talked about them. I didn't. It's one regret I have. It's also how I deal with difficult things. I'm a bit of an ostrich.

Anyway, here you are three years into your journey with Talipes. When you're bigger you won't remember all this so this is to show you what your treatment was like. Talipes can be hereditary and if you have children one day, and if they have Talipes, then it might be interesting to look back at how the treatment has changed. You are having Ponseti treatment which was pioneered by Dr Ignacio Ponseti at the University of Iowa and has been practiced in the UK for less than twenty years now. Before this the only option was painful surgery which didn't always work very well. Some children, in countries with not much money, still don't have access to this treatment so we are very lucky indeed. 

Your boots and bar that you've worn every night since you were 8 weeks old (the boots have changed as your feet have grown - clearly)

I still vividly remember having to put these on you, my tiny little eight week old baby. All of my instincts were to wrap you in soft comfy things and swaddle you as I had since you were born. As it was I had to put these hard heavy boots on your tiny little feet held shoulder width apart by a metal bar. I knew it was right. It just felt wrong. 

Wearing your boots and bar tonight

Despite the initial shock and heartache at finding out there was something wrong with my baby and then having to go through all the treatment you have embraced it as you have everything we have presented as normal, everyday life. We've never given you the room or the cause to question them and so, you never have. Even during the worst tantrums, luckily, you've never thought to refuse them. Every other part of your bedtime routine has been refused at some point so I am delighted it hasn't extended to your boots. You currently tell me "they're not boots Mummy, they're dragon heads." Then you lift your feet to make them fly.

Minnie Mouse wears your old boots to help her feet too!

You have another two years of wearing your boots and bar and I hope that you continue to accept them as you have done. I will try to explain more to you as you get a bit bigger and I know you'll understand. 

I love you x

"I promise I love you"

On the way into Cambridge today we had a chat:

"Why is the car bumping Mummy?" 

I replied that it was the little holes in the road. Silence...

"Or maybe it's little rocks Mummy?"

I agreed with that as a possibility. Silence...

"OR turtles Mummy?" 

"It's probably holes darling."

"Yes Mummy....or turtles."

Me and you :) 

As we arrived in the outskirts of Cambridge you declared, "it's so pretty here Mummy. Cambridge has lovely buildings." The voice comes out of my pretty little three year old girl but the words could be those of an old lady. Sometimes odd. Sometimes funny. A lovely juxtaposition though. 

From our cafe, we watched the people coming and going at the bus stop and you talked me through what might be happening. 

"That man's waiting for a bus Mummy."

"Yes darling."

"He's on the bus now Mummy."

"Is he sweetheart?"

"It's taking him home.....or to the jungle maybe."

"Maybe."

"Now that lady is waiting...OH! The man's bus is back from the jungle already."

"That's a different bus baby."

"Oh."

You carried on chatting for a little while, happy with your own interpretation of the bus stop's comings and goings and I was happy to just listen.

I know all parents feel the same and that this is nothing new but I want you to know how I feel right now. Me at thirty six years old and you at three. In a similar way to not being able to comprehend infinity in space, I struggle to elucidate how much I love you. I look at your three year old face all questioning, excitable and caring and I could just burst. Your little body wrapped up in your winter coat and your little feet in your warm winter boots make me want to hug you forever. I adore your little girl's hands tightly gripping Right Bunny and I love how much you adore that rabbit. I love your evolving grasp of language and how you currently spin things to your advantage by slightly misusing "I promise..."

"Put that in the bin darling." 

"I promise you can do it Mummy."

Tonight I told you to choose the bedtime story. "I promise you can read the London book Mummy. Your favourite."

"Thank you darling."

"In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines lived twelve little girls in two straight lines..." ~ Madeline in London, Ludwig Bemelmans (1961)

Night night sweetheart. See you in the morning. I love you, from Mummy x

Dear Molly, you talked about when you grow up tonight...

We had a sweet little chat at bedtime tonight about what you'll be able to do "when I'm bigger Mummy." I put my overwhelming desire to ignore the fact that you're going to get bigger to one side and settled down to see what getting bigger means to you at age 3 years and 2 months.

Number one on your list was to "drink coffee like you Mummy." Maybe I have too much coffee. 

Then you moved on to other aspirations. "I will be able to get my own teddies from my high shelf Mummy" you said excitedly. Yes baby, you will. 

"I will be able to drive your car Mummy." A pretty sensible suggestion for age 17+..."and press all the coloured buttons in it ALL by myself!"

"When I am bigger Mummy, I will cook you roast beef." I enquired about which vegetables we might have. You said "chicken." We'll do some work on the food groups. I said broccoli was a vegetable. You responded with, "oh, now I understand. We'll have cauliflower. Silly me." Not silly darling. There's a lot to take in. It'll take some time. 

"And for my work I will work on a computer like you Mummy and be a teacher and be a gardener. I can do those things all at the same time." For now I want you to believe you can be whatever you want to be. We have plenty of time for looking at the practical options for gardening teachers on computers at desks. 

And the last thing you'd like to do when you're bigger was a little mixed up but the sentiment was perfect. "When I am big Mummy, and you are smaller, I will read you a story and tuck you in your big girl bed. I will read you The Smartest Giant book to make you happy." 

"Mummy?"

"Yes darling"

"Can I still have my big girl bed when I am bigger?"

"Of course sweetheart"

"And will I still have Right Bunny?"

"Most definitely"

"Oh goodie" 

I love you so much baby and I can't wait to hear how your aspirations change as you grow. Experience everything you want to in your own time and believe in yourself. Just don't hurry. There's no rush.

Night night darling. Lots of love, Mummy x

"I think she is growing up, and so begins to dream dreams, and have hopes and fears and fidgets, without knowing why or being able to explain them." ~ Louisa May Alcott, Little Women (1868-69)

Dear Molly, you asked me once, "who is Auntie Choof?"

We had this sensible thought when you and your cousins came along that we'd drop all the silly family nicknames. I think they seemed even sillier when we tried to comprehend explaining them to the next generation.

Despite our best efforts they've crept back in, as deep engrained family traditions tend to because they've carved a furrow for us all to live in. I've actually come to believe that that furrow is where we belong. It's there for a reason.  

So, in answer to your question, when Cameron and Erica refer to "Auntie Choof" they are talking about your Mummy. I am Choof to many of our close friends and family. And your Uncle Peter is a pelican and  Auntie Amanda is a panda and Daddy is an eagle and sometimes I call Auntie Lulu, Bart and Grandad calls Cameron, the Pontipine and therefore, Erica, his little sisiter, is the Pinette (a female Pontipine). Your Grandad Foster initiated a lot of this with his animalisation of everyone to amuse us as children...and adults! 'Choof' came from school for me though. I just think that my lack of reticence to accept it as a name came from our family environment. It's no big deal. They're only nicknames. Just things which attach to our personae. Sometimes forever, sometimes until another name evolves. Some people use them and some people don't and they are just part of us. Who we are. Our family.

Auntie Amanda(the Panda)'s photograph of you and Cameron walking in Brinkley this weekend

I love being Choof. I love it because it is a natural evolution of different terms of endearment used by my friends and family since I was at school. When people use it today it means, to me, an acceptance of something which on the surface is superficial and silly but which is completely part of who I am. Not that it matters if people don't use it. Nor have I sought to influence who does and who doesn't. It's just happened. Or not. 

My friend (Auntie Lulu) sent me an e-mail yesterday because she hadn't seen me in a while. It made me smile for all the reasons mentioned above.....and, of course, because it made a beautiful reference to you, my little curly haired shadow.

"Missing - The lesser spotted Choof.  Very small of frame with a big fringe and eyes.  Can be tempted out with black coffee and cake.  Possibly kidnapped by turbo training fanatics.  Usually found with a wee companion with equally big eyes and a mop of golden curls."

Silly, but lovely. A bit like us :) 

My little shadow, my mini Choof (I could look at this picture for hours. There is something about your forlorn little face and your little hand on my leg. People may call me Choof but, first and foremost, I am Mummy and I'll always be just behind you baby, in case you need me.

So, my little Molly Mootle, there you have it. One day I can elaborate a little about why we are who we are in our funny little world but, for now, we just are.... 

I love you enormous amounts, as ever. Mummy x

"A little nonsense now and then, is cherished by the wisest men." ~ Roald Dahl