I looked round and thought “I love my life”

Kev tells me that for all the trials and tribulations that exist for me being a mummy, I must try hard to share the good days with the world as well as the bad.

Yesterday was one of the best days I can remember since Squidge became herself, as opposed to “the baby”. Don’t get me wrong, she is still “the baby”, despite how big and independent she’s getting… did I mention she’s walking now? So proud.

Anyway…. yesterday….

We woke up at about 8:30. There’s a local group of mums that I got put in touch with via Mush and the power of Whatsapp (in my own life, I avoid Whatsapp, too lazy to keep up with so many forms of social media) that make a habit of meeting at the soft play centre 5 minutes down the road. I’m really trying to make an effort with that. What’s nice is, there’s no prescribed time to show up, so I didn’t need to feel panicked. I got Squidge her breakfast bottle (trying to wean her off formula in time for her 1st birthday in…. *gulp* 5 weeks!), changed her bum and got her dressed. She let me put her coat on, rather than the creaming/wrestling match we’d endured the day before. I took the pram outside and when I turned round, she’d walked from the living room to the doorway, ready to let me lift her in. She smiled as I inanely talked her through Five Little Ducks on the way. We were there just after 10am. Sucess.

She loves being up om her feet, but isn’t 100% with her balance yet so wouldn’t let go of me for a good 5 minutes, just this little hand clinging to the top edge of my top. But she discovered a walker a lot like the one Nanny and Granddad got her and was perfectly happy with that til she spotted the Kit Kat Mummy had the nerve to buy herself for breakfast.

Terrible breakfast choice, I know. Discovered that I have low iron levels at the moment, culminating from the nutrients you sacrifice to grow a Squidge in the first place, the heavier periods I have now. So there’ big iron tablets at home with my name on for 3 months, but at least I know why I’ve been feeling so damned tired. Dark chocolate apparantly is a good treat if you’re low on iron, so there’s my rationale. But Squidge walked all the way over to wedge herself in my lap, so how could I refuse her? We’ll say nothing of me accidentally knocking my unopened can of Pepsi onto her head as I tried to extract her under the table(!) It’s amazing what stolen chocolate cures!

I tried to sneak a picture of her playing for her dad but by then she was on to me and instead decided to show interest in nothing but the fridge! That’s our Squidge.

And she soon let me know when she was ready to go home…. coming over and flopping her head into my lap, thumb tucked in to her mouth. She melted my heart I swear. Took her home and she slept without fuss for 2 hours. So I did the dishwasher, put some washing on, did some life admin. Made her lunch. Normal, calm, peaceful.

She woke up 2 hours later, just babbling happily to herself. I love going to get her from a nap. I always sing a little song as I go up the stairs so she knows I’m coming:

“There is a Mummy

A-coming up the stairs

Where is Immy?

Is she there?”

I never usually get past the second line before this beautiful little face peeks out from the cot, leaning round the wall to grin as she watches me.

There she is!

And she launched happily into my arms, babbling something that sounded a lot like “Up!” (Genius baby!)

She has a little ritual of stopping by the upstairs bathroom. It used to be so she come smile at the reflections. “Baba-baba!” “Mum-mum-mum!”

Now it’s so she can lean over to try and reach the light switch. But she likes it nonetheless and I’m happy to indulge the silliness we share.

I still struggle carrying her downstairs, more so the bigger she gets. But we have a new game, Squidge and me. I sit down, with her on my lap, and we slide down together. I’m getting carpet burns on my bum with every stair, but I don’t care. Because she laughs. I’ve spent longer than is fair given her age worrying how she’ll feel about having a disabled mummy. But when I told Kev the story of my happy day last night he said: “Jo, you are everything she knows. She won’t know all mums don’t do this.” It made me smile, like we were meant, Squidge and me.

I spent about an hour trying to feed her her cheese wrap bit by bit while we listened to nursery rhymes on Spotify. She ate most of it happily from the floor. Didn’t bother me one bit, her immune system will be miles better than mine. She smiled, wiggling her bum and juming up and down to nursery rhymes. And I just looked at her happy little face and I was totally in love with her, so at peace with my life. And that’s been no mean feat since I started on this adulting lark.

In that moment, I was very aware that I am fortunate enough to have everything I need in the world. A happy safe home from my loving (under appreciated) husband and a beautiful, happy, healthy, loving, funny, clever daughter. I made a silent promise not to let any of these things go under appreciated in future. I will always laugh when Immy decides to eat her toes whilst I’m feeding her tea, or as it transpired, to eat her tea off her toe and then offer them to me in turn.

I will always make time to smile when she nudge her juice cup into my mouth when she’s had a sip. What a lovely girl.

And I will always make sure to marvel at the fact that my gorgeous girl is exactly that. Mine.

When I finished telling Kev about my lovely day, he told me how happy it made him when I had good days.

My reply?

“I am so in love. Thank you for my baby, baby.”

At last.

I love my life.

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