I miss this space. I miss this place. I have many half started posts that languish in drafts. The moment passed and therefore likely never to see the light of day, but this one must. My baby is six months old. It should be marked. If I isn’t I will forget so much. I shudder when I think of how much I have already forgotten. How is it possible for something to be so all consuming and yet such a blur all at the same time?
Once again I am stunned by how each child is different, both in looks and temperament. She looks like both of her brothers and neither of them and is like them and yet entirely new. New quirks, new likes and dislikes and new challenges. I still find myself utterly flummoxed as to how to make her happy or what to do next. I thought, by now that my instincts would be stronger, that I would always know which way to go and mostly I do, but there are times when I am transported back five years, holding a crying or awake baby, with no idea where to turn.
She has pale, porcelain skin and blue eyes. Beautiful, round, deep blue eyes. Her hair is really starting to grow, not yet decided if it’s going to be blonde or red. When the sun shines on it, it looks like tiny strands of bronze.
She is incredibly alert and interested in everything. So much to see, something always going on in our house and she is completely entertained by it. Watching, learning, wanting to be involved, soaking it all in. She is the chattiest baby I’ve known and I have chatty children! I wake to chatting, not crying. Always making a noise. She loves to be upright, sitting or holding weight on her legs and as a result doesn’t spend much time on her tummy or lying down, except just before her bedtime feed when she is grouchy and tired, but we are busy. At this time she is guaranteed to be cheered up by some nappy free time, rolling around and putting her toes in her mouth. Her newest noise is the loudest shriek, used when she is excited and very happy. Lovely to hear, but dare I admit a tiny bit too loud and irritating, possibly only because it is a glimpse into the noise levels in my house, in the future.
For each child you have people, and perhaps even yourself seem to expect you to let go earlier and easier, but babies don’t work like that, certainly not this one. She needs us, more specifically me, especially in the evenings. She has taken a bottle of painstakingly expressed milk, but reluctantly and has refused to on another occasion. She likes to be held in the evening and still feeds then a lot, although usually compensating me with only one wake up in the night. (Edit: this post is taking so long to write that that lovely one wake up is now two, maybe three. I hate colds, teeth and anything else that’s bothering her. Sleep has become an issue in our house. A all too common topic if discussion and dissection. I am longing for the state of acceptance that I know I’ll come to me soon) It can be frustrating, my hands itching to do, to create. I wish I were someone who could just watch TV, but there’s only so much I can watch without a crochet hook to hand. My brain now divides things into hands free and hands full activities. It is what it is, this time is short and she is my last. Our baby gazing days are numbered, acceptance is the key. It’s not always easy to remember that.
She wants to be held in the day too. Our woven wrap has been invaluable. As well as not liking being out down, she has many other dislikes. She doesn’t like her car seat, having the babygro poppers on her legs being done up, tummy time or having a toy removed. She loves a bath, she kicks and splashes, time without a nappy, chewing her feet, being tickled and the cat. She LOVES the cat.
Her brothers adore her. Nano sometimes a little roughly. He is three, a new sibling creates emotions he doesn’t really understand, but he tries. Mini Mck calls her “girlie”, he keeps her entertained and pretends they are at the fair or flying a plane. She lights up when either of them are near. It is quite a wonderful thing to make people and then watch them love each other.
As always time is going too fast. Six months (nearly seven now) gone in a blur. I look at her newborn photos and it seems only weeks ago and of course this time there’s the bittersweet knowledge that there will be no more tiny babies for us. Clothes that are outgrown need to be sold or donated and not put back in the loft. I can’t do it all yet. They have been sorted, donated and the bits to sell put to one side. I hope soon I can actually bring myself to offload them soon. To be able to see them for what they really are. Simply things. Their departure simply a signpost to a new and exciting stage of out life.
*It’s actually now seven months. That’s how long it has taken to write this, on my phone, at school. with two napping children.