You know that thing where you don’t realise how cruddy you’ve been feeling until you feel better?
That.
I finally got round to making an appointment with a new acupuncturist a couple of weeks ago, and spent an hour on a Saturday morning having needles stuck in me.
As I usually do afterwards, I then spent the rest of the day feeling pretty drained and exhausted. But the two weeks since then have been something of a revelation.
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DorkySon and I made some pretty good chocolate brownies yesterday. I turned away from him to stick them in the oven, and when I turned back I found this.
Apparently licking the spoon is not enough these days. Much more effective to just shovel fistfuls of uncooked dough into your mouth by hand.
I can honestly say that I have never been one of those parents who express regret about the passing of time. It has given me great joy to see my baby turn into a toddler, and my toddler turn into a preschooler.
I want DorkySon to grow up. I want him to become more confident and independent of me, to do things on his own without my help.
Perhaps it has been easier because he is naturally a quiet and fairly reserved boy, and I am more used to giving him gentle, encouraging nudges to try new things, rather than trying to hold him back from activities that he’s not yet ready for.
That said; all his big developmental stages have started on his say-so rather than mine. He indicated very clearly that he wanted to stop breastfeeding at 9 months. He decided when he was ready to start using a potty, and when he wanted the bars taken off his cot.
The next big thing on the horizon is probably going to be dropping his nap. I feel incredibly lucky to have a three year old who still reliably takes an hour’s nap after lunch every day, but I am very aware that this time next year DorkySon will have started school, and it won’t be possible to keep that going.
One of my favourite parts of the day is the ten minutes I always have – round about half six in the evening- sitting on the sofa, breathing out at the end of a long afternoon, and listening to DorkySon and DorkyDad chatting in the bath.
If he isn’t travelling for work, DorkyDad always does bathtime. It is sacred boy time, where he and DorkySon chat about their day, sing songs to each other, make up stories, practice the alphabet and generally enjoy each other’s company.
More recently, DorkySon has started using it as the time to ask any big questions that have been troubling him, or bring up any issues that have been playing on his mind.
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It may have been DorkySon’s best day ever.
It was warm and sunny. First of all we walked, then we took a train, and then a taxi.
He wiggled on my knee.
“I’m so excited,” he said.
We got out of the taxi, and DorkySon wrinkled his nose up.
“What’s that smell?”
“It’s the animals,” I said.
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Dorkymum | Stories from Tasmania 