@cosmicgirlie
As a mother, I am of course likely to worry about every little thing relating to my child. I worry that he has a slightly spotty forehead. Then it's fine. I worry that his fourth toenail on his left foot will go rotten from where constantly scrapes it along the floor. Then he doesn't seem at all bothered by it. I wonder if he will ever have teeth.

Er, I'm still wondering.

But there's one thing, that's plagued the back of my mind from very early on, and I've only laughed and joked about it with people. Ok he's only 7 months old, and it's probably near on impossible to diagnose anything at this age, but it worries me all the same.

From day one (day damn one), he has been incerdibly stubborn. Yeh I know, look at his mother, I hear you say (I don't deny that I'm stubborn too, it's just wierd when you meet your match in a 7 month old), but he actually seems defiant sometimes.

He's also so lively, I don't quite know how he does it. Last night he cried on and off from about 4:30 til 6am. I refused to give him his dummy, knowing full well it would still be in his cot somewhere, and the fact that I really want him to learn how to get back off to sleep by himself should he wake in the night. He then awoke properly at 7am, had milk, then breakfast at 9:30, then didn't go down for a nap til 10:30. And he was asleep 20 minutes, if that.

And he's still awake now, despite having had second milk, and thrown himself at me to go sleep. He didn't sleep, he just wriggled til it felt like he was going to break me, so I've put him in his Baby Einstein and he's still playing now. At full force.

How can this be normal? We were told our new baby would sleep shit loads in the early days, and even now would probably have one nap that could last for up to 2 hours in the day, as well as other short naps. We're lucky to get one short nap sometimes.

He's so lively, strong and active, I really feel like he's actually about to break one of my limbs, or leave me bruised to buggery. And whilst a lot of you are saying "Ahw that's so lovely, at least you can play with your baby", it's a different story when your baby is only 7 months and still doesn't understand a lot of things.

I hate sounding like a whiney mom. I would hope I'm only whiney with good reason. I know I'm lucky. But I'm worried something isn't right. I don't know what.




Or maybe I do know what but I do know but don't want to be the one to taint my beautiful baby boy.
@cosmicgirlie
I have a cold.

Nope, no wait, I have bird flu.

I'm allowed to exaggerate, we all know it's what I do best.

*SNEEZE*

Noah had a cold from last week, and in his loving caring state, decided to share it. And I feel like shit, which is unfortunate, given that it's Jeph's wedding on Saturday and I'm playing in the quartet. Which, for half disclosed reasons, could be interesting.

I have a friend (yes I do!) who's having some trouble, and it's really sad. Yes, sad that she's having some trouble, but even more sad that I totally relate to what she's saying, but can't seem to convey it convincingly without the whole "Oh ya ya...me too, me too....my life...yack yackitty yack".

*cough cough*

My brain is slightly frazzled, it's 10:20 pm, and I wanted to write.

*cough*

I'd like to utter the words "I'm tired of being fat", but fear I may be slated/yelled at/finger wagged at for saying it. But truth is, I feel fat. I feel freaking HYOWGE*. I'm tired of constantly not fitting in any of my clothes (my jeans....my beautiful jeans...) and yet still not having any motivation to really lose weight. B and T have lost a shit load of weight already, thanks to the likes of weight loss videos. I have no freaking motivation.

I confess, now that I'm not breastfeeding anymore (which, by the way, I obviously blame stopping the breastfeeding as the reason why Noah got a frigging cold), I have toyed with the idea of just, not eating. Like, no food. Not even calorie counting, just stopping food entirely and hoping the weight will somehow fall off.

Yeh yeh I know, that's just stupid. But when I walk past the mirror in the morning, suck in my stomach for the frillionth time, I wonder if that's just the easiest (and laziest?) way. I hate my figure, it sucks. And you know what? I don't think I want to hear "Oh but you look great, stop talking out yer arse woman", because I don't feel great, and much as they're meant to, comments like that don't make me feel great either. In fact they make me feel worse, because it's like I'm supposed to just suddenly feel better.

I never forget starting breastfeeding and weighing myself every motherbleeping day, just waiting to see when I'd suddenly wake up super skinny. Since giving birth, my total weight loss has been....weight for it (pun intended)...12lbs. No explain something to me. Noah weighed in at a ridiculous 10lbs15oz. Let's call it 11lbs. Placenta's gotta weigh, like, 3lbs. Maybe more. Let's say more. Then there's all the fluid and shit (literally), so by rights I should have lost maybe...17lbs. Give or take.

So, er, what the bleep?

*sniff*

It's not even like I lost a load then put it straight back on...I somehow only lost the weight of Noah.

Fer bleeps sake.

Wanna hear something really funny? (Cos you know this post is just a barrel of laughs) I officially go back to work in September. I have no idea how many days that is, a)because I don't even know the official date I start back and b)quite frankly I don't care to know. I'm erm, really excited.

Um.

*cough cough*

I am not entirely sure why I'm going back, apart from knowing that it's somehow related to finances. Like, maternity pay, and having no money of my own. My mother has officially retired (as of today!) so she's on hand to babysit, as are D's parents.

I can't complain about going back (too much), the hours are good, and everything appears to be covered.

And as an aside, I swear to motherbleeping god, I am going to bleeping murder the motherbleeping barking dogs next door, because the bleeping neighbours are too bleeping ignorant and a pair of dumb bleepers who are bleeping stupid beyond bleeping belief, as are their bleeping bleepery dogs.

They've been barking for an hour and a half. I am slightly irate.

Even more random, B came out with two brilliant quotes today; on arriving at L's house, she exclaimed:

"Oh my god Jay, I'm sweating like a rapist, I swear."

And later whilst feeding Miss P her spinach with salmon and parsnip, wasn't too keen on the smell, saying:

"Shit man, this smells fishy as fuck."

Awesome. Just freaking awesome.

*Where I live, this actually means huge. The accent gets a bit funny, ya know?
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@cosmicgirlie
D goes to Dubai soon, for a whole week. I think I may actually be feeling slightly terrified.
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@cosmicgirlie
OOOOMMMMFFGGGGGFGGGGGFGGGGGGFFFFFFFFFFGG

This is why I have barely posted:


He sits. I have to make sure he doesn't smash his head on the floor.



He self feeds. I have to make sure he doesn't choke.



He rolls around in his cot. I have to make sure he doesn't get stuck.



He pulls himself to kneeling. I have to hide everything.



And there's more.



He eats anything he can lay his hands on.



He crawls at full steam, fully co-ordinated. Everywhere.



And he pulls himself up to standing.



With the help of anything he can get near to.

I am currently in touch with world leading scientists to see if I can get eyes implanted in the back of my head.

And as if that wasn't enough, I actually seem to have run out of milk, as of last week. He's on... The F Word, and still fighting the dairy intolerance battle. I think I'm ok with it all, the fact that my body finally gave up trying to feed a 22lbs baby (yes, 22lbs people. He's an adult.), I'm happy that I hit my final 6 months target. In fact I managed to get three weeks past 6 months which makes me even happier. I had set the next provisional goal at 7 months, but already knew it to be unlikely. In fact, I may have just realised how my poor body may have just crumpled to nothing if I had tried to continue feeding this large baby/small boy/medium sized adult...

As for his movements (and for once, not the bowel variety), I struggle to keep up now. There are baby gates in the house, cd's and DVD's have been moved out of the lounge, in his cot we often find him standing up casually holding onto the rail with one hand whilst swatting Tigger with the other. Downstairs, he's a fan of the game 'Lets Pull Up To The Table And Swish Everything Off It Or Smack It Real Hard To See If It Will Break'. It's a great game, I love it, makes me really happy, especially when it involves smashing a remote control onto my phone, or trying to push the laptop on the floor. Fun! Fun I say!!

He started coasting yesterday too, and today decided he would like to try and move from the sofa to the table. Yes there's a gap, and he hasn't quite worked out that he needs to remain standing in transition. Aren't they supposed to learn this stuff when they're like, 3 years? Or something? I could have sworn I still had several months to go before enduring this...

Still it's great fun. But not when you've put him down for a nap 10 minutes ago in his travel cot, and you can still see his head bobbing up over the side....
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@cosmicgirlie
Yes yes, he moves. A lot.

A WHOLE lot.

It's not quite crawling, though because I'm his mother, I'm allowed to say it is. Though I guess really, it's more like Commando style shuffling/lurching on limbs/rolling forwards-sideways kinda movement.

It's really impressive!

Well at the end of the day, he moves forwards, on his front, frantically moving his arms and legs; think "fish with arms and legs trying to go forwards on dry land".

Yeh, that's easy enough.

It's pretty cool, though oddly unsettling; neither D or I can turn our backs now, not even for three seconds, since he seems to be getting incredibly quick at it! It's so good that he does it now, though, I guess it's a step towards his independence that he so desperately wants.

N: (Son of a bitch, I'm gonna reach that mug of scalding burning tea if it kills me)

J: Son, please don't reach for the mug of scalding burning tea, it will kill you.

N: (So as soon as she turns around I'm obviously going to throw myself forwards, repeatedly, as fast as possible. That forbidden object will be mine. Mine, I tell you!!)

J: Shit!!

N: (Dammit!!)

I spend many mornings lying down on the bed or floor...not relaxing, no, no. Looking to move everything that isn't nailed down out of his reach. I wouldn't mind but when your kid (5½ month old kid at that) is able to throw pillows across the room, well, you'll take no chances.

Now if you'll excuse me, having met up with some of the Yummy Mummys today, I'm going to go play on the Wii to see if I can lose around 40 frillion pounds to look as good as the rest of them.

Pffffffft!!!!
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