Our little prince is six months old!
He’s been in our lives for a whole six months, and my goodness have we gone through some changes.
Six months ago, a small, balling infant was placed onto my chest. He was a mixture of the most powerful and delicate thing I’d ever encountered. Seconds old, he curled his tiny fingers round hubsters finger and two became three.
And our lives have never been the same again.
Gone are the lie-ins, spontaneous trips anywhere, keeping clothes clean, going anywhere without a car full of assorted baby paraphernalia and generally just pleasing ourselves. And yes, he’s worth it, instead of lie-ins we have lazy mornings in bed with a wriggly infant. Trips are planned in advance, no longer spontaneous but we have lots of ‘firsts’.
In the six months since he’s been born, I have cried A LOT. Most recently was the day before yesterday. In the early days I cried because I was in pain, I hated my huge deflated belly, I hated that I couldn’t fit into my clothes. I was frightened to go to the toilet because of extensive stitching of my lady parts. I cried on the hottest night of the year when William would not go to sleep in his Moses basket and I was just. so. tired. Sometimes I cry when he sleeps because I am just so damn proud of him. The day before yesterday I cried because Wills wouldn’t stop crying. For me, the most emotional thing I’ve done is become a parent. In addition to the most euphoric highs are the absolute lowest of the lows; like when I’m tired and dirty and I haven’t left the house in days.
Today Wills has thrown up all over my face, he’s dribbled in my mouth and since changing his bum earlier I haven’t been able to get the smell of poo off my finger despite washing my hands several times. Today is another day that he just won’s stop crying. And I don’t know what to do with him.
Every time me and hubs congratulate ourselves on finally getting a handle on this parenting malarkey, there’s a change and we’re right back to feeling like perhaps we should have stuck with the cats!
But we’re not alone. We’re winging it with everyone else. And that really is okay. It seems to me that there is massive pressure to be perfect and we live in a society that likes to edit, pictures, posts, blogs (I do check for spelling and grammar mistakes, honest!) the frustrating thing with tiny humans is that there is no opportunity to edit. And why should we? I’ve spent several hours with a finger that smells like poo. That is parenting. It’s opening the door to the postman without a bra and make up smeared all over my face, it’s having lattes thrown all over Costa, it’s paying hundreds of pounds for car seats that get covered in sick. It’s lugging bulging bags of nappies, wipes, spare clothes spare food, toys, teething gel and Dettol wipes with you everywhere you go. It’s being more tired than you’ve ever been before. It’s trying to do up all the sodding press-studs on a baby grow on a baby that won’t keep still. It’s singing the same song seventy billion times to stop the wailing in the back of the car. It’s putting up with judgmental looks and comments.
And apparently it’s crying.
And that’s okay too. It’s okay say, ‘You know what? I love my baby but sometimes being a parent makes me feel a bit shit.’
I started writing this post last week, but I had to stop half way through (you may notice a change in the tone) because I was just completely overwhelmed (there were definitely a few tears). At first I was mad at myself, get a grip, you should have this down by now!
Well some days I do.
Some days I don’t.
And that’s okay. But it’s not okay to pretend to you it’s all roses. It isn’t (again, poo finger…) don’t get me wrong there are plenty of roses, but you can’t have good roses without a lot of manure. (I just thought of that, I am the analogy Queen) so embrace it, and please, please don’t be so hard on yourselves.
In other news:
The cats have decided, once again, that they most definitely hate each other. It’s all out war in our house.
I accidentally shut Marms in a drawer the other night. Upon opening drawer after hearing scratching I got the scowling of a lifetime.
Wills now has a high chair. Another baby item you fork out for only to have it vandalised by a tiny human. He was in it less than ten minutes before he rubbed banana all over the straps.