My darling girl. You have been testing us these last few months.
Is it a sleep regression? Teething pain? Developmental leap? Who knows. All I know is that my wrists ache from rocking you to sleep, your naps can be measured in nanoseconds, I’ve been going mad trying to feed you when you reject 99% of foods offered, and I have been giving your baba SUCH a hard time.
Sorry baba. I mean, Vik. Sometimes I forget that there was a you and me, before we were three.
We’ve given up trying to resettle you when you wake at night, so we bring you into our bed to snuggle. By snuggle, I mean dig your little toes into me and whack me in the face intermittently.
Some days I am desperate for thirty minutes to myself, with no one else to think about.
Other days, I think I’ll go mad from your blood-curdling screams that pierce directly to the centre of my brain and set my nervous system on fire. Those days, your baba cops it when he gets home from work.
But oh, gorgeous girl. For every exhausting day, there are shining moments that make it worthwhile.
You are getting more beautiful and funny by the day. Your squeals of delight make my heart swell in my chest. Your grinning face beams pure sunshine. Your precious little bod is divine, your chubby hands slapping the ground as you speed-crawl along the floorboards. When we walk you around, your feet take off faster than the rest of you, desperate to run ahead. I watch as you make new discoveries, picking things up and turning them back and forth in your hands, your engineering mind at work. Occasionally, out of the blue, you come and rest your head in my lap for a moment. Nothing has ever made me feel so maternal as this.
Pointing is your new thing. You point at this thing, then that, so that your baba and I find ourselves walking back and forth all over the house while you point imperiously at the next object that has caught your attention. Your two willing slaves are too besotted to care that we are being totally played.
I pretend to roll my eyes when you reach for me from your baba’s arms. Secretly, it makes me feel a tiny bit smug – plus I know it’s only a matter of time before you prefer him, so I’m soaking it up while I can.
Oh, and you finally said ‘mama’. Or more precisely, mumumumumumum.
Love you bablu dablu,