And so that’s it, baby stage over: Turning two

Parenting and life


Definitely not a baby anymore.

Yes, they’ll always be my babies – but to the rest of the world, they aren’t. They’re children, a million miles away from the super squidgy and helpless newborns that once screamed all night, fed all day, and puked all over me with gay abandon…Whose tiny toes I played with, whose little milestones I celebrated.

The crawling, walking, sleeping through the night, the first words, the first ‘love you mummy!’. I admit, I may not remember precisely when they all happened, I was pretty chuffing tired at the time, but they were all special.

The evidence that babies lived here has slowly disappeared.

The cot went a whole year ago. Many of the toys, the clothes, the bits have been sold or passed on and are being used by new babies now. It’s time to sell the double buggy. Even if either of them would use it which they categorically will not, I’d have to work out regularly to build up the muscles to push that sucker anywhere. It’s no good to us here.
I no longer worry at all about his speech asĀ I used to, a little, because he never actually stops talking now.

Removing the dummy, which I was worrying myself over and wrote a whole post about, was ridiculously easy. As easy as going away and leaving the kids with my parents for a week, and my mum not realising I’d packed them. Whilst a huge win, I almost miss looking at his little sleepy face, sucking away, probably dreaming of running away or biting his sister or one of the other things he loves doing.

Now it’s the time for new firsts.

Saying goodbye to the nappies will be one that I can’t wait to reach, although I think it’s fair to say they might be staying for a little while yet (want to see evidence? You’ve been warned). I forgot how much fun potty training a strong-willed child can be.
Before I know it, it will be time for preschool, along with his big sister. Yes, of course I’ll miss him but more importantly, what will I do with all that time? I better become bloody prolific.

But back to now – back to two. Does it scare me? The ‘terrible twos’?

The terrible twos are not so scary when you have a three year old.

Just kidding. It scares the hell out of me.

Happy birthday small one!

(While you’re here, take a look at this kid and his brilliant concerned facesĀ a whole year ago. I urge you.)


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One Response

  1. The Squirmy Popple 3 July 2017

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