Squidge is 8 months old today.
Her dad is counting down to her first birthday. Where did all that time go?
She’s loving having her grandparents watch her on a Monday, to fuss over her and tell her she’s beautiful. (Without a hint of bias of course!)
She loves nursery too. So independent, so happy to try new things and play new games. She’s such a little person. I don’t know how else to describe it. She just is… herself. Her cheeky smile, her insistence that nothing but up on her feet is good enough. Can’t keep her still enough to cuddle anymore, I don’t think it’ll be long before she’s walking. She’s forever charging around in her baby walker now – a present to welcome her to her forever home – and a celebration that we finally had the space to warrant it.
She likes to thunder into the kitchen and watch the washing machine go, which is useful when i’m charging around trying to do housework at the same time.
Work hasn’t been too bad because the nursery send me photos of her smiling every day.
Squidge’s first day at nursery
She’s happy and I’m trying my best for her. It’s a good feeling. An even better one when I climb into the car next to her and she’s still happy to see me!
But my God, the fatigue. I cannot sleep enough at the moment. It seems my plans to be a good mummy friend have died along with baby groups for the summer holidays. I spend my days off cleaning, tweaking our budget and selling pretty much everything that isn’t nailed down so we can overpay the loan and the idea of staying at home with her can be a reality sooner.
But I really must look at my anti-socialness again. Squidge thankfully isn’t like me, she wants to be sociable. and so do I. I always have. It just seems now that everything takes energy that I am less and less able to deny I don’t have. It seems to be a sad truth. I don’t want to be this washed out at 28 but it depends who you talk to. I mean, am I tired because I’m a working mum or tired because of the cerebral palsy? I fear I might be heading back to the doctors!