Violet is nearly 6 months old, Echo’s still a twat and Jack still continues to flit between pissing me off and making me laugh on a daily basis.
We’re twenty ones days in and I feel like it’s flying. Mainly because this is the year I return to work and don’t want it to go fast so clearly the laws of time apply and make it whizz by quicker than Usain Bolt in a 100 metre final. I’ve decided to try and enjoy it as much as possible before I’m back to working 40 hours a week and getting shouted at by customers for something that’s not my fault.
So far this year :-
I lost a lot of my baby weight and put it back over Christmas (Celebrations are not breakfast food).
Jack’s hair is now acceptable again, we can now be seen together in public.
Violet can sit up unaided for quite a while, usually until she tries to take a leaping jump towards something she’s not allowed.
Echo was well behaved for a week and made up for it by eating my Poinsettia, decimated a Garbage bag all over the back yard and smashing my glass cake cover trying to get to the Christmas cake.
We also started weaning Violet just week ago and for the most part (nappy changing aside) it’s been fun, watching her flail around in mushed Banana while jamming a sweet potato chip into her eye (I think she was aiming for her mouth) with bib rendered pointless.
I also realised just how much I hate mess.
While trying to encourage the baby to feed herself and enjoy food, I find myself clenching my insides and gritting teeth as she throws another spoon on the floor and dips her sleeve into the pile of Pear purée she’s just spat out.
As much as they tell you to embrace the mess and reiterate just how exciting a time this is in baby’s life, it’s very hard if you HATE MESS. I have to repeat to myself, ‘Embrace the mess, EMBRACE THE MESS’ because I find it incredibly hard to stop myself from wiping things away every two seconds.
‘It’s OK if she spits it all down herself and then rubs her hands in it before rubbing her face’
‘It’s OK if she has wet legs because she smiled at me while drinking her water’
‘It’s OK that she’s mushing a spoon piled high with purée onto her fluffy head like it’s some kind of spa treatment’
I’m going to need a dentist, my poor teeth.
And I suppose it is ok, because she’s a baby and I can’t shout at her (yet), but also she because she loves meal times and it’s fun and I want to prolong the whole ‘What’s for tea?’ ‘Insert carefully prepared and lovingly cooked meal here’ ‘I HATE THAT’ phase that’s inevitable – for as long as possible. It’s ok, I can still shout at Jack for all the mess he makes…’Move your DISHES’ ‘I’M STILL EATING!!’ ‘YEAHHH….well just move it when you’re done, ok? I Love you 🙃’
At least we’ve finally found a reason to keep Echo around, he’s like a four legged hoover with a tongue shaped mop attached.
That’s all from us.
Violet, Echo, Jack and me.