This month, J and I have worked out something rather weird – our son has been in our arms as long as he was cooking in Jess’ tummy.
I suppose it’s an odd way of looking at it, but I couldn’t think how else to explain to people just how quickly this last nine months has gone. In that time Rupert has gone from our cuddly, squishy, hungry little monkey who never wanted to sleep to a clever, funny, hungry little monkey who never wants to sleep.
The time for other people has gone so fast and my friends and family are always quick to say ‘wow has it really been nine months?’ or ‘I can’t believe he’s crawling/standing/still not sleeping through every night.’ But for us the time really has gone by in a heartbeat and it seems like every day he either learns to do something new or tests/surprises us in new weird and wonderful ways.
For example, changing him used to be easy. Stick him on the changing mat, clean him up, put on some bum cream, put on a new nappy, and then re-button his Babygro.
Now, the routine goes something like this. Put him down on the changing mat, oh he’s rolled away, put him back on there, rolled again, put him back and take his trousers/shorts off, distract him with a toy for long enough so you can get his nappy off, oh he’s trying to put the toy in his wee/poo, great, he’s trying to roll again, grab his legs and try and turn him back so he’s up in a weird upside down corkscrew shape, distract him with toy again, bum cream on, one half of nappy on, he’s rolling again, turn him back over, finish putting nappy on, decide whether to put his trousers or shorts back on right now, pour wine. And that’s all before I’ve left for work at 7.15am.
But that’s parenthood. And I didn’t sign up for some picture perfect life where he never cried and he slept through at night and played/napped like an angel in the day. I signed up for the bad bits too, because they make those good bits all the sweeter – although a 4am wake-up call is never pleasant, no matter how much he flashes that beautiful smile at me.
Another thing that’s changed has been his approach to solid foods. Before it was simple, either Jess would breastfeed or I would give him an expressed bottle, then we’d burp him and he’d get on with his day.
Now, there is so much to think about. What can we give him to eat? What did he have for breakfast and lunch? What nutrients is he getting? Is he getting enough (insert vitamin or mineral name here). Then there’s the feeding itself. Can he feed himself? (solid no, he picks it up and drops most of it on the floor) OK, now he’s crying because we didn’t give him the spoon. OK, pretend you’re eating it and then he’ll want it – you see where I’m going with this.
All in all though he’s a good boy, and he amazes me and his beautiful mummy every day. Just don’t grow up too quick though Rupert. Please?
