The Big Lad’s one next month. Where did that year go? It’s taken eleven months. Eleven months for life with this small person to feel normal. I look back at my ‘old life’; a life of quickly nipping out somewhere, of nine hour sleeps, and basically doing what I wanted when I wanted to do it. It feels odd that these things I used to take for granted were ever the case. Yet aside from the fact I can’t simply pop out for a pint of milk (or in our case, a bottle of red) whenever I please without the kitchen sink in tow, or enjoy a full night’s kip, life with this small person is pretty darn good!
Our lives are pretty mental at the moment. I went back to work last month. I take back everything I said about being tired whilst on maternity leave. This is a whole new level of tiredness, especially now we’ve hit the ‘sleep regression’ stage with Theo. We’re convinced he has a built-in sensor that kicks in just as our heads hit the pillow and we open our books. We pretend for a while we haven’t heard him, and tell each other he’ll fall asleep again. He never does. I don’t know how he does it, but he’s usually stood up in his cot, asleep and crying all at the same time. Everyone keeps saying “it’s just a phase”. I bloody well hope so, because I feel I’ve aged ten years in a month. Childless people keep telling me to have a lie in before starting a late shift. Hahahaha! I laugh in their face. If only they knew. Weekday or weekend, T wakes up at 5:45am without fail. Please Theo, just let us sleep!
Last month we went mad. We decided it would be the best idea ever to go and spend a week in France. Did we book flights and a traditional chateau looking out over a vineyard? Did we use the week as an opportunity to chill out in preparation for my return to work? Did we buggery! We decided it’d be the best idea ever to travel across England, to get a ferry over the channel, to then travel miles and miles with a rucksack, a suitcase, and a buggy (not to mention a two stone baby) to spend a few days with my dad, who thinks anything and everything we do is weird and analyses our every choice and decision. Who knew eating a meal could be so difficult? “Don’t you know you’re supposed to eat the cheese course BEFORE desert?” Poor Alex had to put up with endless comments about not eating meat, and was forced to survive on the worst microwavable veggie burgers. Not only that, but we were forced to have family bonding sessions with my hyperactive 2 year old nephew, who constantly pulled his pants down and farted, bare bottomed, in my face at every opportunity. Needless to say we were glad to leave the Adam’s Family behind, and move on to our next stop; Rouen, where we had a fab time. Alone. So much so, that we’ve decided to be less adventurous next time. We’re giving in and booking a week in the Canaries. Somewhere with a pool, near the beach. Alone.
Anyway I’d best dash. Got to nip to Argos and pick up a plastic-y baby walker that probably plays horrendous monophonic nursery rhymes and gets in the way. Anything to save our backs and let Theo walk on his own!