second birthday report: it was a mixture of admiration of my beautiful boy and angst about the anniversary of my diagnosis, which of course the birthday bbq preparations brought back to me in living colour. dh failed to either note the anniversary (though I'd mentioned it a few days before) or to offer anything in the way of thanks for his son or the extensive work I was doing on the birthday party (he "helped" by blowing up balloons and cleaning a bbq: I shopped in three runs, invited everyone, planned proceedings, made and iced a cake, put out food, made salads and gave myself a migraine in the process). so naturally we had a fight just before everyone arrived, I failed to catch my mini-nap and spent the party in a semi fog of skull pain, pouring drinks. he reacts to any criticism in such a full on way, cutting me off, but I feel I'm justified to some extent. plus we had to have the why-are-you-looking-at-net-porn-but-avoiding-being-sexual-with-your-wife conversation. I guess it's all too hard for him; I just don't have a lot to give, emotionally, these days. feeling bruised and like he should be the one to swallow his pride...

anyway. A now says "birthday cake" whenever a birthday is mentioned. he loves his trike, but he loved the balloons just as much. he loved his presents but his favourite thing is some Wiggles wrapping paper. He can name all four of them now; can't name his colours but he can name the Wiggles. sigh. at least it's not McDonald's. He's talking so much more; says "mummy do it" when things defeat him, "mine!" quite a lot, "no bath/home/whatever he doesn't want", "A drive car" when he wants to drive, and can name lots of people. he wore a short-sleeved red Chinese pyjama suit with silver dragons embroidered on the front for his birthday. well, if you can't dress up on your birthday, when can you?