They say that once a baby enters your life time really does fly by in the blink of an eye. In the midst of the newborn fog and those really really hard days, you are torn between the guilt of trying to appreciate the gift you’ve been given and the exhaustion of wanting those “easier” stages to hurry the feck up and arrive before you seriously lose the plot. I learnt very quickly that you can’t do both. You’re either in a snotty sleep deprived mental state or being hit by truck load of love realising that you’re finally a mummy. Either way, a serious amount of snot and tears are always involved.
But time really does fly.
From the moment Elsie reached six months it was as if this little person emerged from nowhere and I suddenly realised that amongst all the moaning about being a parent and enjoying all the fun things like shiny new prams and play gyms, that I really hadn’t taken much time to appreciate my little bundle of dribble. So my dear little monkey…this one is all about you at half a year old.
You have got blowing raspberries down to a fine art. Seriously, you could win competitions with the distance you manage to spray dribble, carrot, milk and snot with that tiny little mouth. It’s your answer to everything. A simple ‘say hi Elsie’ results in us all being caked in raspberry blowing slobber. Nice. I’ve been trying to teach you a new trick; to blow kisses or clap, but you’re having none of it. Blowing raspberries is your thing for the moment so for now we’ll just all have to keep taking cover.
You are starting to see the world around you. It’s fascinating watching you really start to see things. The way you pick up your toys and explore them in such detail. The way you are starting to interact with others. The way you are starting to see things you can’t have- my glasses, my phone, my cold cup of tea, anything on the shelf above your changing table. The world must be getting clearer and more exciting for you and I can’t wait to
move everything away from you– share it with you.
You have got one very fine set of lungs on you. We’ve never heard anything quite like it. Oh yes we have in fact; there’s a scene in Splash when the mermaid speaks her language in the department store and it’s so high pitched she breaks all the television screens. Yes, you are that loud I’m surprised all our glassware is still intact.
I think you’re going to be a drama queen like your mummy. Daddy, I can only apologise now; Mummy was a very annoying kid.
Your eyebrows are growing upwards. Don’t panic, I’m sure we can do something about this before you start school, but for now you look like a cute little Nutty Professor up close.
Other than your beautiful smile, you’ve perfected the ‘gormless look,’ which we adore now, but I’m sure it will become highly irritating when you’re in your teens.
You are super demanding. Honestly, I’m a performing monkey and my repertoire needs revamping every day. I feel like I’m auditioning for Britain’s Got Talent and by 4pm I’m being completely buzzed off the stage.
You’re sleeping in your own bedroom. Mummy felt as if you were moving out the first night we put you in there. I hardly slept a wink as I kept coming in to check you were ok. You were a part of me for so long and I miss not having you right by my side. Although I don’t miss being kept awake all night by you practicing your blowing raspberries.
I think you might be allergic to apples. Funny because mummy is too (in an ‘I’d rather eat anything else’ way instead of the rash you come out in) I just hope you aren’t allergic to exercise too one day.
You love watermelon. It keeps you entertained for a good twenty two minutes which I can assure you is invaluable around ‘cranky o’ clock.’ (between 5-7pm) You gag every time you try a new food, then scream in my face when we can’t feed you the foods you do like quick enough. We’re hoping this is a habit you grow out of before we start dining out with you.
After endless days and nights pacing the floor; rocking, swaying, bouncing and playing Ed Sheeran’s Tenerife Sea more times than I’ve heard any other song, you finally self settle yourself to sleep. I feel a little sad that my cuddles no longer soothe you to sleep, but I love watching you nuzzle into bunny, stroking his fluffy (usually soggy) ears across your face until you gently drift off to sleep.
You are super tall for your age. At one point I broke down (not an unusual occurrence) to the Health Visitor who insisted on seeing you every blooming week for two months to check your growth; worried that you were destined to be on some Channel 4 documentary for giant babies. She assures me you won’t, although I’m now worried you’re going to be Wallington’s answer to Miranda Hart. But that’s OK. We will still love you and I’ll help you find another very tall partner. Failing that, there’s always
The Undateables First Dates.
Even on the days when I’m so exhausted, so teary and so stressed because I’m struggling to keep everything as together as I had it before you arrived, you make my heart burst with love and pride that you are all ours.
Until next time…
With Love & Half A Year Already,