Eleven weeks today.
George has been with us for eleven weeks today. I won’t write down the
profanities currently swirling around my head over the fact that my littlest
fella has been on the planet for almost three whole months now but suffice to
say that I’m baffled bewildered at how a whole eleven weeks have passed.
For George, the story so far has been one of sleeping,
feeding, changing, little sick ups and being ferried about after his big brother. Over the past two weeks the awake moments now
include actual looking – following his black and white mobile which he seems to
enjoy, tracking faces and turning towards noises (or away from them when it all
gets too much). And we’ve got the smiles of course, the smiles that started as
fleeting twitches of the face in the morning and are now big grins that can be
found at all hours of the day.
Whether he knows it or not the story so far has also
included being lied to on a daily basis by his mother. Throughout the day I will, all too easily,
shout out “mummy’s just coming George” or “don’t worry George I’ll be there in
just a second” when such is absolutely not true. Based on the introduction I’ve
given him so far I doubt if he’ll ever truly understand what honesty, time or
time management really are.
Such dishonest declarations are issued frequently every
single day: I shout it in the front of the car when we’re off to collect Alby,
when I’m cooking dinner and am desperate not to overcook the food for once,
when I’m pulling duvet covers out of the washing machine, when I’m trying (for
the love of God) to get Alby to put his shoes on so we can get out the
door.
Each lie is followed soon after with me doing my best
headless chicken impression as I run to you clucking “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m
sorry” but by then the damage is done. The
lie has been told and the feeling of utter abandonment by you is no doubt
complete.
Ahh guilt – let’s not go pretending that you’ve been absent
the past few years but oh boy do you like to let yourself be known in the early
baby days.
Oh and let second time mothers know that hearing your baby
cry is just as horrible, heart wrenching, stomach turning a sound as it was the
first time round. Even worse when the
crying is caused by something stupid you did – bumping his tiny head as you
weren’t paying total and utter attention getting him out of the car, splashing
water on him as you do the dishes whilst bouncing up and down as he hangs from
you in his sling or forgetting to lay a towel down on the cold changing mat so
that when he lies naked on it the coldness startles him, his falling reflex
overtakes him and he completely loses it.
An absence of mummy fail titled blog posts should under no
circumstance whatsoever be regarded as an absence of mummy fails around the
house. We’re eleven weeks in and I cried
down the phone to the GP surgery after splashing him with my hot drink, have
rearranged the bedroom after he rolled out of bed (who knew he’d managed to get
enough body control to roll on a soft surface????) and I won’t go into some of
the moments we’ve had in the car for fear of incriminating myself. In summary, perfect mother I am not. But if
you’re looking to pass a guilty verdict you’ll find me in the corner waving my
white flag of surrender.
To keep things nice and fair it’s worth noting that George
isn’t the only one that helps bring up this lovely emotion. When George is
crying and Alby is trying to ask me something or tell me something and I just
can’t cope with the double noise and end up responding to his speech about how
a giant standing on Everest is the biggest thing in the whole wide world with “we
just need to be quiet for a moment” said in my most firm voice, I use the following
6 seconds of silence to reacquaint myself with my old pal guilt. It comes up again when I lose patience with
Alby when he insists I take off his left shoe and start again because I did it
the wrong way round, this time with the right foot.
And I won’t even start on how neglected I’ve left poor Percy
pooch. How he hasn’t gone bald yet from
lack of love baffles me.
No comments:
Post a Comment