A month today, my son turns 2. My tiny 6lb15oz bundle of excitement, love, exhaustion and pride will be 2 years old. I think I’m missing something here. And by ‘something’ I mean a year. A whole year. An entire year. 365 days. Where did they go?! Seriously, can someone find them for me, please?
I know all parents say they grow up fast, in the blink of an eye, yada yada, but this is just unfair. I feel like I’ve wasted a year of my life, of our lives, because I can’t think of anything particularly exciting we’ve done. We’ve had a lovely little family holiday, but what else? Our days have been so filled with work, housework, trying to establish some kind of routine (ha!), worrying about money, trying to fix the house up, making sure we’re all suitably fed and attired, trying to keep up appearances of normality, that we have been unable to achieve the impossibly perfect days out featured on Instagram, where not a hair is out of place and everyone is 100% happy and care free. I mean, isn’t that what having a child is all about?
These two years have been incredibly tough. The fear and paranoia of those first few weeks, the challenge of breastfeeding, the constant worry and guilt when something doesn’t go to plan. My battle with Postnatal OCD and anxiety, the toll that had on our relationship, the constant judgement and conflicting advice regarding what you should and shouldn’t do with a baby. Going back to work, trying to find things to keep a not-yet-mobile-but-still-wants-to-do-everything baby entertained (especially in winter – jeez!), trying to find our way back to each other, and trying to find my way back to myself rather than just Mummy.
Don’t even get me started on the challenges you face when your first child first starts to walk! Nothing is safe!
You know what though? I’m pretty proud of myself. I’m proud of myself, and I’m proud of us as parents. I think we’ve done a pretty darn good job! Our boy is happy and healthy, he’s fed and clothed, he has toys to play with and books to read. He has friends, and he has learned the value of independence from being at nursery. What more can you really ask for?
So here’s to T, the surprise blessing of a boy who enriched our lives in a way we didn’t know possible. The boy who has us tearing our hair out, wanting to scream, pouring boiling water onto our cereal instead of the coffee because we are so exhausted that we don’t know what the hell we are doing.
The boy who is teaching us a new way of living, a new way of loving, a new way of seeing the world.
The boy who never fails to surprise us, always makes us smile, and will never disappoint us.