It’s official. My newborn baby-boy has turned 6-months old.
I’m wondering how this could have happened considering he was only whipped out of my fandanjo the other day right?! But I’ve checked, re-checked and wept uncontrollably into a large gin as I triple-checked the dates and it’s true.
I’m just not sure how six entire months could have passed by without me ‘noticing’ to be honest… but then I suppose repeatedly being pelted in the face with toddler shoes and/or faeces, and only being allowed to sleep for approximately 23 minutes a night has probably affected my ability to concentrate… and focus… and get through the morning without wine…
This is my second and my last baby. And despite trying really, really hard to revel in every moment… it’s all still flying by way too quick. The moses basket is a distant memory, in fact it’s now being used to store surplus nappies, outgrown baby clothes and house a family of small woodland creatures… (that last bit could be a lie), the carrycot has long since left the buggy – a moment I am still mourning/pathetically weeping at (although that could be mostly down to wine) and his sleeping bag is now so enormous it could fit not only him, but a plethora of babies, along with plenty room for the woodland creature family too… A fact that is making me have a small breakdown.
I can’t tell you the exact date and time he first smiled, the precise moment he noticed his feet, or recall the first time he rolled over… I didn’t write any of it down… because I was too exhausted to see, or remember how to write, and was slightly distracted by a 3-year eating Sudocrem and sellotaping nappies onto our cats (they love that)…
I just can’t shake the sense of guilt… have I paid enough attention? Attended enough baby classes? Given him everything his older sister had? (Although I’m stipulating now for the record that he will only be allowed one colour of play-doh. Ever. And there will be NO MOTHER-CHUFFING PLAY-SAND.) (Or f@*king glitter.)
I’m probably just being a knob. But I can’t help but feel ever-so-slightly absolutely f@*king devastated that he’s using a high chair, trying to sit up by himself, already growing out of his 6-9 month clothing, and turning down my nipples in favour of devouring Ella’s Kitchen pouches… *sobs* Yeah, thanks ‘The Purple One’ for making my tits sad and lonely. THANKS A LOT. (Just kidding – please don’t leave me, I need you to wean my baby for me because I’m way too lazy to puree anything for myself this time. Sorry thanks sorry. Shit. Sorry.) (Shit)
I’m smiling on the outside, but inside I’m desperately trying to get my shit together enough to remember what’s been happening the last few months… Even the Real Housewives of Atlanta aren’t helping. THESE ARE SERIOUSLY DESPERATE TIMES PEOPLE.
The lasts of the firsts. God it’s depressing. And means I’m drinking prosecco like it’s gonna run out… (Which apparently it is. Better up my intake. You know, to be sensible. Or something.)
I’m sure I’m not alone feeling this way… I’m on the verge of shoving him back in the moses basket, ramming him into teeny weeny white baby-gros and forcing him back on the boob 75 times a day… so if you see a slightly crusty, legging-clad woman roaming around the streets with a giant baby wedged into carry-cot, weeping and dragging a shoe-less toddler about behind her… that’s probably me.
Bye*.
*ginwinegin
God! Such a distant memory.
ReplyI can’t remember after my second child (a girl) was weaned. I’m sure, like you. It seemed to happen all by itself. From being born, God that was horrible. It happened too quickly, a bit like her weaning. No cosy stay in maternity, one overnight stay then home to a year old baby brother, mother in law and a confused husband, at least I think that’s who he was! After all the obligatory oohs and aws, I had to step up to the mark and sort out dinner. Not only for my new infant but also for the family!!
No wonder all the weaning was done before I realised it!
Joy oh joy, I wouldn’t want to relive all that again. I think the first time, the grey coloured matter (brain), started to work properly, my son was 10 and the baby was nine ! And I no longer required a daily injection of alcohol. Just enjoy the final babe time. Life has a habit of flying away along with the clock. Tic tock!!!
Mags
Dear lord! Well I am pretty thankful my first born is 3 now… so she sort of fends for herself sometimes which is kinda helpful… lol x but my brain is fried. I haven’t a clue what day it is most of the time. Always know when wine time is though so I like to think I have my priorities straight at least! xx
ReplyThis is the main reason I had three kids. I felt the same watching my second grown but I’m desperate to leave the baby bit behind third time round. No concerns about missing bits this time, just wishing away the crappy bits and looking forward to things getting easier. This may be the only practical reason for having three kids that I can think of, to make you not feel guilty about missing the baby milestones. We laugh in the face of milestones, me and number three. Thinking about it, even that is a pretty lame reason to be honest.
ReplyLol! So you’re saying the third child basically wipes out broodiness for once and all… Pahaha x #Ilikeit 😉
ReplyExactly right. I wasn’t done after two and knew I’d feel Regret if I didn’t have three. Now I can safely say I won’t ever feel broody again. I am sooooo very done!
ReplyMy youngest is now 5, feel like I only just realised the time has flown. He is also my 2nd and last (sensible, 3 kids means they start to outnumber the ‘grown-ups’). My brain is playing catch up with this and I suspect always will be. Enjoy every sleep deprived, gin soaked minute, you will cherish them.
ReplyI shall 😉 even if I don’t quite remember them all! Xx
ReplyOh god! I have all this to come! My baby is only 3 months but it seems like a distant memory she had a smushed up newborn face. I was devastated she wouldn’t take a bottle instead prefers boob but my god when she doesn’t need my boobs anymore I think I’m going to cry!
ReplyIt just goes too bloody fast doesn’t it :/ *passes gin*
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