Meet Mr Grasshead. Ok, so right now he looks a bit like a pair of tights with some mud shoved in them, but I am assured he will soon be sprouting hair (and then I might even give him some eyes). This is my first venture into the world of “making things with babies” and to be honest it was a little one sided.
The suggestion at the children’s centre to make a Mr Grasshead filled me with immense joy, however Ethan was less than impressed. I had to drag him over to the tray of mud, while enthusiastically cooing and oohing and poking his fingers in it. He eventually managed to free himself of my grasp and then crawled over to the one thing he actually wanted to play with – the dustpan.
This did leave me free to make a grasshead for myself and I’m rather pleased with him.
It’s very simple you know, so for all those grown ups that want to make one (and, of course if you’re children are interested), simply take a length of chopped up tights, tie a knot in one end, fill with soil, sprinkle grass seed over the top and tie another knot. Then form a nose and tie with a piece of wool. Remember to keep your grass head watered.
I shall take another picture when he’s looking more hirsute!
It’s been six days since my last blog post – and the reason is this. I’m tired. Not just your average, “oh I’ve had a hard day at work” tired, or the good tired you get after a proper work out – but total exhausting, mental tiredness, that only comes after you have a baby.
In the first few months it was expected, and the hourly wakings were almost bearable. Then Ethan started sleeping through the night and everything was wonderful – for a while.
Now, it’s a lottery. Some nights he’ll tease us by sleeping a full twelve hours, only to then give us complete hell for the next two nights.
In the morning, althought bleary eyed, he will maintain energy levels similar to that of a toddler on Red Bull.
A few months back I was encouraging him to crawl. Now I wish he would sit still.
But it’s not all bad. Yesterday I spoke to another mum who was so happy – she’d had her first full night’s sleep in three-and-a-half years.
As I write this Ethan is screaming at me. It would seem he is tired.
On the train to London, Monday night, and I’m thinking this is the first time I will have been away from my son since he was born.
Surrounded by suits, laptops on tables and people with an agenda, I’m sat with a 70s knitting pattern, an empty pack of Sainsbury’s sushi and thoughts of whether or not Guy is going to remember to give Ethan his milk at the right times while I am not there to supervise.
I suppose this is where I’m meant to do that “letting go” thing, and it does feel a little odd.
On the other hand, it does feel strangely liberating. I have already achieved one of my ambitions, knitting proficiently on a train, whilst managing to maintain an air of calm and sophistication (of a fashion).
Tonight I will drink wine with my sister in law knowing (hopefully) that I will not be woken at some godforsaken hour in the morning by a screaming baby. I will wake up and worry just about myself. I can drink a cup of tea while it is still hot and have a shower at my own leisurely pace, where I don’t have to worry if Ethan has pulled the baby walker on top of his head.
Tomorrow I am going shopping with a good friend and we plan to eat sushi in Harrods and drink bubbly (her treat – I resigned, remember!) Freedom.
But although I can’t wait for the fun and excitement of the city, I already miss that feeling of being needed. And I’m already looking forward to seeing my baby again!
I’ll leave you with a cute picture – then I get to take one more look at my son…..
There’s no doubt about it – it’s tough looking after a baby. When I first had Ethan I used to wonder how on earth people coped past the first three months. I doubted myself with everything I did and kept asking myself if I was really the great mum I had hoped I could be. Happily, I now seem to have a better grasp of what I’m doing and it’s the small things in life that confirm this. Having my parents look after Ethan for a few hours on Saturday made me realise that I should never have worried.
It seems that having not tackled a nappy for 30-odd years mum and dad went in for the two man approach when he needed changing. While mum dangled Ethan in mid-air, my dad then made to secure what they refer to as “the Velcro bits” of his nappy around his waist. It was only after I returned home and they left that I discovered, much to my amusement that they had managed to put the nappy on backwards. Joy!
MisGuided Parent writes a hilarious blog which makes me feel a whole lot better about my parenting skills. Check out this post on how babies are really easy to impress.
Now, on the knitting front I need to find something to start before knitting club resumes on Wednesday. My neighbour has given me a classic pattern magazine from the 70s with some highly amusing pictures in. I must say I’m very tempted by a few of these…….
I used to hoard clothes and my wardrobe was full of items still with the labels on, jam packed so Guy only had space for a couple of jumpers. Well a few months ago I took a whole load of stuff to the charity shop – including shiny new garments that physically hurt to give away.
And now I must start on Ethan’s clothes.
Who knew how much stuff an eight-month old baby could accumulate. There are hats, shoes, socks, bibs, trousers, baby-gros -you name it, which he wore for just a few minutes.
I did one “sort out” when he hit three months, as we’d been given teeny tiny things that he grew out of in five minutes. Some bits we’ve put away (because you just never know when you might need them again, apparently!) and others we’ve given away.
With everything sorted into piles I just can’t believe how many clothes there are – and I’ve got to figure out where to hide them, or just give them to the charity shop knowing that someone will get more use out of them.
Maybe I should just hide them all in the wardrobe – Ethan doesn’t seem bothered either way!
Every year just before Christmas my dad and I go on a shopping pilgrimage to Bath during the time of the Christmas Market. It’s tradition. We’ve been doing this every year since time immemorial (or thereabouts). This was the first … Continue reading →
No one told me that Christmas parties for babies and toddlers were hell on earth. I’ve just returned from utter chaos – Ethan’s first sighting of Father Christmas has been what I can only describe as a bit of a bun fight.
We left the house this morning looking quite presentable, clean pair of jeans (which in itself is quite an achievement), hair washed and I even managed a bit of make up. I now return with mini cheddar bits in my hair, a bag full of sicky wet wipes and a screaming child desperate for sleep. Yesterday I felt festive – today I would like to lie down in a dark room and wait until January.
I had high hopes of Ethan’s first Santa sighting being a magical moment – with laughter and joy…. Hmmm, maybe next time. Perhaps I’ll give the other kids’ Christmas parties a miss.
Now, where’s that kettle – I need a cup of tea….