Tag Archives: Crawling

Feb 5 2013

Dear Dexie

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This is wayyyy overdue. I haven’t written a proper update on your progress for months - and there is simply so much to say.

You are now nearly 9 months and growing up so fast. You’re beginning to look so much more like me in the face. You have your daddy’s chin and ears, but your eyes, nose and cheeks are definitely mummy’s. You’re just about growing out of 6-9 months clothing and are therefore exactly on course. We’ve moved you up to Pampers Dry Fit 4.5 - as you’re on the move we need to ensure you’ve got plenty of room to avoid little accidents.

You’re now managing to get around - using sheer determination rather than any actual skill. You pull yourself around with your arms and your little leggies are forced to come along for the journey. You don’t seem in too much of a rush to use your knees yet, but it can’t be too long before you perfect the move.

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This rubbish attempt at crawling allows you to traverse the room in a matter of minutes. You’ve been using this newfound freedom to explore the house, which is incredibly cute but a little terrifying at the same time. You have a bit of a kitchen obsession and I’ve caught you messing around with the mop and rummaging through the recycling box. You’ve also got a strange habit of seeking out wires and will therefore bypass a rug full of toys to get at the back of the television. Black and white are your favourite colours so I have to hide daddy’s trainers, iPhone charger, mobile phones and other things I don’t want you putting in your mouth.

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You’re now regularly saying “mama” and “dada” but you won’t do it on command so only mummy and daddy have witnessed it. You can’t connect these words with us yet so you use them to tell us you’re hungry, had enough of bath-time, or are tired… I can’t wait to hold a conversation with you and teach you all about the world around you.

You still love splashing in the bath, music, and being tickled. You’re also ridiculously vain and one look in the mirror will stop a tantrum in its tracks. Some of my favourite pictures have been of you posing in front of the mirror.

Weaning is going well and you’ll eat literally everything we put in front of you. We’re trying you on Petits Filous, Dairylea, and real fruit now (banana is your all-time favourite) and you’re finding it all very exciting. We still can’t get you interested in water or fruit juice though, and you’re finding it hard to get your around sippy cups; I reckon you’re playing us for fools though as one day you’ll drink from them just fine, the next you’re flinging them across the room.

You’re still a massive fan of napping and we’ve bumped these up to 2 a day (totalling a whooping 3 hours) - I’ve put this down to you getting tired more easily as you’re more mobile. With all the chasing you around - I often feel like doing the same!

I’ve been so sad recently having lost your baby brother or sister. When mummy fell pregnant we were so excited; buying baby name books and imagining our lives as a family of four. When I started bleeding the day after New Year, I felt so angry and devastated. Our baby was almost 12 weeks old.

For weeks I was so lost in my own personal denial, grief and hope that I missed my own 30th birthday, and have been hiding away from friends and family - this has meant we’ve only had each other (and daddy) for company for almost a month. I’m still reminded of it everyday, but things are slowly getting easier. I promise this month we’ll open our curtains again and let the light in - it’s time for us all to move on and be thankful. Soon my body will allow mummy and daddy to try again and we will. You’ll make such a beautiful brother.

Mummy and daddy are so incredibly proud of you and love seeing you grow into such a sweet and happy little boy. We might have the odd day when you’re unsettled (yesterday was a prime example when you screamed for hours when mummy was having a catch-up with her best friend over a glass of wine - I was embarrassed and desperate in equal measure) - but I couldn’t love you any more than I do. We’re so blessed to have you, and will go to the ends of the earth for you.

Love Mummy xx

Whilst writing this post, I’m reminded of another 9-month-old baby, who grew her wings last weekend. Matilda-Mae was the most beautiful little girl of a fellow blogger who devastatingly passed away in her cot at exactly 9 months. I am consumed with sadness and grief for her parents Jennie and David - there are simply no words to describe how they must be feeling.

I’m so proud be a member of such a wonderfully caring community who have all sent messages of love, sympathy and support to Jennie. Although there is simply nothing we can do to take away her sadness, I hope Jennie will take some comfort in the fact that we are all thinking of her, and sending her and her family thoughts of faith, strength and courage.

I won’t be promoting this post out of respect for her.

 

Jan 23 2013

What a Difference a Day Makes…

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Having been poorly these last few days, I’ve had to leave my poor little blog to fend for itself whilst put on a laptop-ban by Craig on bed rest. I have managed to sneakily catch up on lots of my favourite mummy blogs on my iPhone however and have been furiously scribbling down post ideas for the next few weeks.

I woke up this morning and couldn’t wait for Dexter to go down for his afternoon nap so I could jump on here and get writing. Unfortunately, he’s teething and my hospital stay (and the resulting follow-up appointments) seems to have played havoc with his routine. Because of this, Dex has been refusing to nap all day. My little red-faced protegé is now furiously rubbing his eyes and fighting sleep on the sofa beside me. I know in a few minutes I’ll be able to bundle him up and pop him upstairs in his cot for a few hours - but for some reason I feel totally stressed out.

I only had one full day away from Dexter in hospital but he’s managed to learn lots of new tricks during our time apart. He’s got the babbling down to a fine art and can now say “Mumma” and “Dada”. I always thought I’d love to hear him talk, but after the hundredth time of hearing it today, juxtaposed with some unhappy screaming and lots of tears, I’m almost desperate for a bit of quiet.

My little man is also now more mobile than ever and is now able to drag himself across the floor with his elbows (his little legs flailing hopelessly behind him). Annoyingly, he seems to have had enough of his toys and is repeatedly insisting on the following;

  • Emptying his change bag and chewing on his nappies and baby wipes
  • Hunting down my handbag and sucking on the leather straps
  • Commando rolling to the nearest plug socket and chewing on any wires

As it’s now impossible to leave him alone for 2 minutes to visit the loo or have a shower - I’m still in last night’s pyjamas, my hair hasn’t seen a hairbrush, and I’m yet to brush my teeth.

I know I’m just having a bad day and am probably still a little spaced out from the surgery, but I’m honestly sat here wondering where my smiley baby boy has gone. I’m now the proud owner of a little gremlin and have no idea what to do to placate him. I can already see it’s going to be a long old stretch to the weekend…

 

 

 

 

 

Jan 9 2013

Runaway Bottoms

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Since Dexter has learnt to rollover nappy changing has become Mission Impossible.

Previously Dexter was a dream to bottom change. He would lay there sweetly and even lift both legs up in the air whilst I wiped. He had an over-cot changer with a nappy mat so we could do the deed whilst standing up. He never attempted to roll off it or kick out - we had a perfect little routine going on.

That was then, and this is now. Now Dexter has learnt the art of rolling - he simply hates being on his back. Every night we pop him to sleep on his back and tuck him in with his favourite teddy. Every night on our hourly checks he’s rolled over, done a 180, and his teddy is laying on top of him. There’s no point adjusting him as he’ll simply flip back over as soon as your back is turned.

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Nappy changing is now one big game to him and he’ll flip over the second you whip the dirty one away. This peachy (sometimes grotty) bum will be in your face and there’s not a lot you can do about it. I’ve tried holding his legs together and lifting them in the air so he can’t escape but he’ll always find a way. Even if you master the bum change, getting his dinky little trousers back on is like trying to apply lipstick to a Bucking Bronco.

He hasn’t quite mastered crawling and simply rolls around on his small round belly like a roly-poly toy with flailing legs. We’ve googled this extensively and tried placing a toy out of his reach, propping up his belly will a rolled up blanket, bringing his knees together… but nothing seems to work with Dexter - he’ll ‘do his usual’ and simply stun us one morning with a perfect crawl.

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Friends and other mummy bloggers are always saying that we should cherish these last moments with a largely immobile baby. I can appreciate that when he’s crawling it’s going to be an utter nightmare, but I do feel a little sorry for him; he’s putting in all this effort and getting absolutely nowhere! Even when he gets on his knees, his face is buried within our carpet and we get these little ‘Ooomph’ noises so there’s no doubting he’s getting frustrated with himself.

It’s one thing watching him play with his toys on his belly - and having the odd giggle at his failures, it another entirely watching him do it with a dirty bum. I’m under no illusion this will get even worse when he’s crawling and I’ll have a naked runaway baby on my hands. I suppose I should just thank my lucky stars he’s not into the bottom shuffling game…

Jan 2 2013

My Perfect Little Late Developer

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A letter arrived last week to invite us to a session to “Review Dexter’s Progress”. The letter was accompanied by an infinitely unhelpful leaflet detailing the milestones that Dexter should have reached by 8 months. Since then I’ve been grimly obsessed by those little email notifications from Emma’s Diary, SMA, Cow and Gate, Bounty etc.

Usually these emails are full of little bits of advice on everything from getting your baby to sleep, to weaning, to mum’s return to work. Now I’m beginning to see them in a whole new light and they’ve turned into biblical verse to worry and panic about. I’ve turned into armchair paediatrician! My office is the playmat and every second of the day is an opportunity to learn and develop Dexter’s coordination and motor skills. That appointment is looming and Dexter must be on form to get maximum points from the assessor. I’ve even planned my outfit so I look every inch the perfect mum.

Yes, I’ve gone mad. I’ve spent hours on google and visited forum after forum to elaborate on this piddly leaflet. I’ve posted whingey Facebook statuses about Dexter’s inability to babble and found myself in a constant state of anxiety. All this over this ridiculous list of expectations:

On each website there’s always an italicised caveat that “All babies are different and will develop at different speeds….” - then in the same breath, they launch straight into “… But they should be able to” - statements that are so brazenly conflicting it makes me want to track down the authors and enrol them in a writing course.

Standing (granted with a little help from mummy). Also - tipping his shape-sorter to release the good stuff, playing with his laptop and eating bricks! Perfect in every way.

So - no more! Enough is enough.

I’ve decided to disregard these stupid milestones and throw the leaflet away. Dexter can do 80% of these anyway and I’ve no reason to believe the rest won’t come in time. If my Dexter is a late developer I couldn’t be prouder of him. After all I think it was Michael McIntyre that once joked that you never pop round your mates house and have them answer the door on all fours. At some point all children learn what their legs are for and that they’ll get to their toys quicker on foot. Anatomically Dexter is perfect; with two legs two arms, a torso and a head. He’ll waddle eventually and there is no reason to rush him.

No longer will I be singing the alphabet repeatedly at him and bashing brightly coloured bricks together and barking “Dexter Do” in a desperate attempt to push causality theory on him. Dexter can continue with his “oh’s” and “ah’s” for as long as he likes - he’ll call me mummy when he’s good and ready and it will be as magical as ever.

In homage to my newfound sense of freedom I’ve removed the offending websites from my bookmarks and will no longer be stalking my Facebook friends to see what Little Freddy is doing. I’m going to use this free time to get on my hands and knees with Dexter and celebrate the amazing things he can do.

Right, I’m off to build a Galt Brick tower for Dexter to smash down.