I’ve had enough politics for one day, and I’m feeling inspired by the excellent Scribbling Mum, so I’m going to attempt my first Live In The Now post. The premise is to try and take a monthly snapshot of your life, and capture some of the details that you don’t take the time to record in photograph albums or baby books. If you haven’t checked out her blog before, then I urge you to do so. Proof, if ever it were needed, that becoming a parent doesn’t mean that you have to give up any other parts of your identity.
My snapshot is viewed through fairly bleary eyes this month, not just because I was up early checking election results, but also because DorkySon’s sleep has gone to hell in the last few weeks. My reliable 7pm-7am sleeper has suddenly started needing two hours of tucking-in and sips of water before he finally crashes. He has also started middle-of-the-night wake-ups again (mainly to tuck in the toes of all his cuddly animals), and seems to think that the family day should now start at 6am. It’s not good. I don’t function well when my sleep is being disturbed.
I keep reminding myself, though, of how busy his head must be at the moment. After spending all day every day with me, for the last two years, he has now started two mornings of nursery a week and is meeting new people, doing new activities, and encountering new situations. He is becoming more dextrous with his hands, and stronger with his legs. He is having a real language explosion, coming out with new words and sentences every day. He is learning to express – and control – his emotions.
And it is all those developments that create the moments I want to remember. When DorkyDad gets back from his work travels tomorrow, I can’t wait to tell him that the two new phrases DorkySon learnt today were “Katie Morag’s Granny” and “dry boak”. Wobbly lego towers currently surround my desk, and I’m not bummed about the mess, I’m just so proud of him for building them. My first-ever handmade Mother’s Day card is still sitting on the shelf above my bed, raining glitter on me every time I fluff my pillows up. If I stub my toe, or bang my elbow, my awesome wee boy comes running over with a worried face, shouting ‘boo-boo’, and tries to kiss me better. Isn’t it supposed to be the other way round?
DorkySon and I spent this afternoon at the park, hanging out with a beautiful friend, who I will call A, and A’s Mum. Appropriately enough, it’s the same park where I found the above graffiti a few months ago – with some wise old soul leaving advice for the toddler users of the mini-slide and saying “Kids Just Think For Yourself”. I forgive the grammar because I applaud the sentiment.
A’s incredible life story is her own to tell, but the relevant part of it for now is that she is sixteen weeks pregnant, and has the most perfect little baby bump I’ve seen in my life. She is one of those women that genuinely has bloomed, and looks happy, beautiful and serene. DorkySon adores both A and her Mum, and when she didn’t give him a kiss goodbye but instead leaned in for a deep sniff of his sweet scented baby-hair, I knew that she was going to be an instinctively awesome Mama .
Anyway. When A’s Mum showed me a scan picture on her Blackberry, DorkySon leaned in and, in his usual direct way, said ‘What’s dat?’.
‘That’s the baby that’s growing in A’s tummy.’
DorkySon’s eyes widened, and he smiled, and I could see the wee cogs starting to whirr around in his brain. What a thing to get your head around. What a thing to think about. What questions there are to come.
No wonder he sometimes stays awake at night.