Growing up


A couple of weeks ago I was at my Nan’s house with Ian and my mum and we were playing with Savannah in the living room.  We had her toy octopus on one side of the room and all of a sudden she crawled to it. When I shouted to everyone to tell them they didn’t believe me; but then she did it again, and again.  We were all full of pride and praise and couldn’t believe that at seven months old she was crawling already.

Over the next week she got faster and faster and started going under chairs and tables, and started presenting a real threat to the cat.  So we moved the living room around to accommodate her new found mobility and bought a stair gate to keep her in as she kept following me to the kitchen when I walked out.

The novelty of crawling soon wore off though as she started moving during nappy changes and bath times.  She has been active since I was four months pregnant and so movement had always been a problem to some extent, but when it takes two fully grown adults to change a baby’s nappy it starts to feel like something is wrong.  She hates being restrained for changing and instead shoots off the minute her nappy is off meaning that on more than one occasion she has gone off whilst peeing on the bed/sofa/carpet.  She will just roll herself over and go.  When I tell people they think it’s cute and funny, and so did we for a while, but it nearly reduces me to tears when I physically cannot put a new nappy on her.

Then today she decided that she wanted to pull herself up to stand.  Again very proud mummy and daddy!  We facetimed the relatives, took masses of pictures and stopped whatever we doing everytime she did it.  What a wonderful trick!

But, again, this joy was shortlived!   When Ian had his feet up on the pouffe, she pulled herself up to touch his toes, and before he could move she was down again with a bang (luckily on a very thick rug), but it shit him up all the same.  We were under the impression that it was only things at ground level that needed to be moved up, but in a matter of hours she has reached tissue boxes and taken all of the tissues out, Ipads, phones and food all of which were at sofa and coffee table level.

All of my cockiness has come back to bite me.  After months of me telling my mum and nan that she wouldn’t crawl or walk for ages and therefore my candles, rubbish bins, unhoovered floors and open cabinets were fine as they were, it seems that everytime we adapt the rooms she finds a new way of reaching and destroying everything we own.

Savannah bedtime

She also has developed a liking for throwing massive Dynasty style temper tantrums when she doesn’t get what she wants.  If I don’t get the next spoonful of yoghurt to her quick enough, or stop her from pulling or chewing the cat, I get the arched back, screaming and tears.  I won’t let her play at bedtime, same as before but on a more epic scale.  My neighbour must think that think we are beating her!

I feel bad for moaning, and I know I should be so grateful that she is learning and changing so quickly, but I can’t help but wonder where my still (or comparatively so), quiet (as before) and happy baby went.  Who swapped her for this mix of Joan Collins and Usain Bolt?  As petty as this rant sounds, especially to those who probably think I should be more positive about how clever this tiny person is,  I am, believe or not, more in love with her everyday.  It’s more a case of not knowing how I will cope without crying because of my inability to do the simplest thing,  whilst protecting her against her apparent wish to do things above what I had thought she should be doing.  Writing this has made realise that I’m very conscious that she is learning faster and more than I am as a new mum, and as a result I find myself floundering attempting to keep up with her!!

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