When they grow up…
I’m feeling quite reflective I’m afraid.
Today, on Lawrence’s first birthday, I realised just how much my boys have grown up and how much my life has changed, and how much it is going to continue to do so.. Whilst I’m happy and excited and proud of my children and our future, I’m sad and perhaps a *tad* emotional (she says as she is on her third tissue). I may also be incredibly broody.
It wasn’t quite the same when The Beast turned one…I don’t think anyway, I can’t remember that bit, only the stress of producing the perfect cake (I failed). I think it didn’t bother me for a couple of reasons, the main being that from the minute he was born The Beast was striving to do the next thing, to be grown up and I was happy for him to do that, as a wannabe overachiever to have a son doing that appeared to be great. Let’s face it, it’s new and exciting when they sit up for the first time, roll over, crawl, CRUISE,
TODDLE, WALK, RUN, BABBLE, TALK, SHOUT, SING…etc. His first year flew by, but it didn’t matter as we had a second year of exciting new things to see and experience. Plus. It was ok, I was going to have another baby soon.
Having a second child was a totally different kettle of fish. I was intending to enjoy this pregnancy because of all the issues last time, but it isn’t that, it’s more cumbersome (especially when you’re carry a fatso) with a toddler in tow, who is wanting to be carried, cuddled, who suddenly decides to stop sleeping through the night. Days at home with your newborn suddenly aren’t relaxing opportunities to catch up on trashy TV whilst gazing dotingly on your new
fat bundle of joy, playing happy families waiting for daddy to come home to dinner in the oven. They’re about splitting your time, ensuring your eldest doesn’t suddenly
feel left out and begin to act out. Suddenly going out takes twice as long without realising it – you’d forgotten what it was like to get prams in and out of the car in the pouring rain, what it was like to get somewhere and have to find somewhere to do a feed WHILST entertaining a toddler (chocolate, raisins, fruit shoots). You didn’t notice it at the time, but taking a toddler out with
only a small bag was a lot easier.
Luckily, baby Larry was the total opposite to Theo. He happily laid in his chair looking around smiling, and cooing, happy as long as you popped in to stroke his face, happy as long as Waybuloo was on the TV, and amazingly over the moon happy if his hero (The Beast) was in the room. Because of this, and the knowledge that he was my last. HE REALLY IS. I probably unintentionally tried to keep him my baby longer, he’s all snugly and fat and just looks so squidgy. Therefore when he didn’t crawl as early as Theo I wasn’t too bothered, his weight didn’t help him, but also he wasn’t that fussed about it he was just happy to chill, have toys brought to him by his brother who was starting to enjoy having an audience. This made life easier. It was only when he hit about the 9 month mark he became frustrated, cross and grumpy and vocally peed off. This is when I started to really push the crawling, I knew my life would be harder, but at least he’d be less grumpy, not just wanting me to stand and let him stand holding my fingers. He started to crawl about two weeks ago. That’s when I realised that’s it I no longer have a baby and never will again.
The last 12 months have been a whirlwind. I discovered I struggle more with the toddler years and love the new born years. I discovered that actually two boys aren’t so bad. I’ve also discovered that my babies growing up isn’t so bad. Suddenly leaving the house isn’t such hard work. Suddenly going places doesn’t require a full overnight bag of milk/snacks/special food/spoons etc. I
can go with a small bag containing a change of clothes, a few nappies and wipes and a couple of bribes. Next year Theo starts school, and whilst my stomachs drops into the soles of my fabulous new brown boots (adorned with chunky grey slouchy socks) at the thought of my big boy going to big school, I think it will be good for him, he needs to be stretched. Whilst I’m devastated Larry is no longer a helpless baby anymore, I’m so excited that soon he will begin to walk, talk, run, shout, sing. Holidays will be easier (I can pack for myself), my house will be in more order (not long until the weetabix sneeze vanishes), and no more nappies. It’s going to be amazing.
I’m not trying to convince myself at all.
In the meantime, here’s the last year summed up.