I completely lost my writing mojo (no-one still says mojo, do they…?); mainly, I think, due to having too little time, and everything being a bit stop-start. But I’m hoping to get stuck in properly now. And hopefully this update will be a bit more entertaining to read than the last one, which I fear was only marginally better than watching paint dry, or perusing the hooks-and-nails aisle in Wilkos – which Ted and I did last week, on the hunt for cheap Command Strips. WILD TIMES.
But anyway, does it even matter, if it’s not ‘entertaining’?
Over and over, I am over-and-overthinking about writing this blog and about ‘putting myself out there’ and who gives a fig, really? If I go back to the start of the year, to why I wanted to start the blog in the first place: it’s about Ted, and about our little family, and a way of recording the little things so that when I’m a toothless crone in a nursing home – thanks, Ted of the future – I can look up this site and show my equally toothless, decrepit pals what we got up to back in 2018. Again, I’m sure my imaginary, toothless, decrepit pals won’t really give a fig either, but at least it’ll give us something to do in between bingo and Emmerdale and putting our false teeth in to soak.
Anyway, enough about me. Onto Ted at eleven months. Already my baby is not really a baby anymore. SOB. SOB. SOB. A MILLION SOBS.
It is just MIND-BLOWING that we now have this little PERSON – a little boy, not a baby – in our lives. A little boy who wakes up every morning babbling away to himself, who puts on a fake cough to copy anyone who coughs near him, the nosiest little boy who cannot spin his head around fast enough to see what’s going on behind him whenever we’re out and about. He does the speedy-head-spinning all the time when we’re out having a meal; it’s a bit embarrassing actually. Other folks must think we’re the world’s most boring people, so dull that even our not-yet-one year old is looking for more scintillating conversation elsewhere. Although it’d be a bit rich coming from him, as he’s yet to progress past DADADADADAD.
I mentioned before about being in absolutely no hurry whatsoever for him to grow up. Now that he’s almost ONE I find myself torn between wanting to help him stand, and learn more words etc, and wanting him to be a baby for a bit longer. Or a LOT longer. I looked at ridiculously babyish outfits in Mothercare yesterday that I would never have put him in at 3 months never mind 12 months (Me: ‘oooh look, a lovely sailor suit with scalloped collar and embroidered knickers’, Graham: ‘are you mental?’). And I’ve been letting him feed-to-sleep for his morning naps, like he did 10 months ago before I started putting him down for naps instead because the books tell you that feeding to sleep is VERY BAD INDEED.
Anyway, he’s now pulling himself up to stand on bits of furniture and the stairs; for ages, he’d only stand in the bath, as if a bit too cautious for such showy displays on dry land but very happy to go all-out in the water. The Krypton Factor commando crawl is still his failsafe means of getting from A to B – i.e. from one side of the living room to the hallway; he hasn’t managed to leg it up to Sainsbury’s at top o’ street or anything – and so I don’t think we’ll ever get a ‘proper’ crawl. He can now go easily from crawling to sitting and is altogether more stable (in the physical sense, I mean. He’s still prone to the odd gin-fuelled meltdown now and again. KIDDING.)
Most days, he has a big appetite – porridge followed by toast and humous and cucumber followed by pasta and sauce (or one of his ‘ready-meals’/pouches) – but I’m still breastfeeding him a lot. I say ‘a lot’, I don’t know how much, nor how often really – 7 times? And I’ve seen no sign of him becoming less interested in ‘nursing’ (who says ‘nursing’ in real life?)
Sleep is…. still a mixed-bag. No that’s not true, we usually have one of two variations: 1) one wake-up anytime before 2am, followed by a 5.30am start OR 2) two wake-ups – one before 12 and one a few hours later, then a 6.30am start, if we’re lucky. All I’ll say on the matter is that it’s a good job you’re lovely Ted…
BYE FOR NOW.