Teething. TEEEEEEETTTTTTHING. That’s what the little fella is doing at the moment. It’s really unfair actually. Getting a tooth means dribbles, a bit of a rash, super red cheeks and pain. PAIN. We’ve tried everything, and he’s still in super good spirits in fairness to him, but he’s waking up A LOT as during the night with a horrible cry that pierces my heart. Oh the vileness of it all. Luckily, this horror has coincided with the fella taking a week off work, so baba is coming into bed with one of us at about one in the morning while the other one heads off for some kip in the spare room. It’s a sleeping tag team people.
You see, the hormones that enable you to exist on no sleep at all at all are non-existent by the time your baby is six months old and the fella and I both feel like we’re walking through jelly. The little fella is in amazingly good form despite being a little grumpy and is chewing everything he can get his hands on. He is also super frustrated with not being able to crawl, and keep throwing his toys as far away as he can and then hurling himself across the floor to try to get them. This has made me hyper aware of the fact that my beautiful ornaments and room furnishings are going to have to be packed away until the little fella is like, twenty. Yesterday he swiped a pint of water and threw it across a mat. It’s the beginning peeps. My little fella is growing up.
Aswell as all of this, today is my last Friday as a stay-at-home-ma. I’m heading back to work next week and I am cacking myself. I’m lucky, because my job is writing, which is one of my favourite things to do, but it doesn’t take the total FEAR out of it. What if I’ve forgotten how to do my job? What if I dress like a Ma now? What if I have a panic attack about leaving the baby? This, as well as teething 101 has been keeping me awake at night over the last few weeks. I have frozen enough baby food to feed an army (he’s eating broccoli now – I’m so proud) and have written lists upon lists of everything I need to keep a handle on and I have mentally gone through my wardrobe with a fine tooth comb, discarding the most ma-ish of clothes and berating myself for not stocking up on post-bump clothes when I still had money.
Aaaah, money. I look forward to meeting you again. And enjoying the dresses you will be buying me. And the lipstick. And the takeaway coffees. And restoring my monthly addiction to Elle. Oh Elle, how I’ve missed you. And I’m really looking forward to hanging out with my work people again. I’ve missed them. And it will be really nice not to talk about baby vom all day. Or poo. Especially poo.
I’ll miss the little fella, of course I will, but it’s going to be good for the both of us to get out into the world and see what else is going on. And those end-of-day snuggles will more than make up for any time we’ve had apart. But if he crawls when I’m not there I will totally lose it. I’m just saying…