You've been here for twelve whole weeks. In the weird double time of early babydom, the day you came feels like yesterday, yet it also seems as if you've always been here. I already can't imagine life without you. Your smiles are my morning sunshine, a reason for getting up, even when I've been awake half the night. I don't care -- I'd get up for you at 4am for the rest of my life (though if you did decide to sleep through at some point in the future, that'd be fine too. Just in case you were wondering). Anyway, to celebrate your first twelve weeks, here are twelve things I just love so much about you.
- The way you fall asleep on my chest in the morning, arms splayed in an open hug, completely, totally relaxed. I love that you trust me that much. And it gives me a great excuse to lie in and doze till 11am. "Sorry, am trapped under a giant boy, just can't move" (may use this excuse when it's time to go back to work in 9 months time).
- Your crazy giant smiles. I can't believe that only six weeks ago I wondered whether you'd ever really smile at me, properly, without immediately being sick afterwards. Now you do nothing but smile: huge, half moon, open-mouthed affairs bursting with joy, whenever you see someone you like. Every time you look into my eyes and explode into one of those smiles it better than winning the lottery. You're my jackpot, twenty times a day.
- Your brilliant grasp of the power of speech. I can have half-hour long conversations with you, squawking and gurgling, squealing and cooing, yodelling and grunting (and that's just me). I know you know exactly what you're saying: thank you for putting up witht he fact that I don't always get it. I'll always listen, though.
- The way you always try to sneak a sip of your bath water every single night, sliding sneakily down and getting bubbles all over your chin, before I can scoop you back up again. Even when you're being naughty you're adorable. This will serve you very well in the future, believe me.
- Your great enthusiasm for television. You'll happily sit on my lap and gaze at anything that's on, from Cash in the Attic to Mastermind. Which is great, 'cos I really like telly, and I was worried I'd end up with some snooty, high-culture baby who'd only be happy sat in front of Pinter or the ballet. That'd be crap.
- The fabulous expressiveness of your eyebrows, despite the fact that you actually have no eyebrows. Your frowns and quizzical raises are fantastically eloquent, and seem to have replaced screaming as your preferred method of expressing disapproval, which is brilliant.
- That you are, without question, the best baby by far in your swimming class. You may have hated it at first, but now you've got your wetsuit we have to restrain you from diving head first into every spillage and puddle. And you even put up with daddy looking after you in the pool (the video evidence is here).
- How incredibly warm and snuggly you are when I get you out of bed for a final change and dream feed last thing at night, like a baby-shaped hot water bottle. It makes me want to cuddle you all night long and never let you out of my arms (this may prove awkward and embarrassing for you in your teens, but such is life).
- Your brilliant talent for friendship. Not just your posse of Mr Butterfly, Crazy Bee, Mr Rabbit, Terrence the Tyrannosaurus, Mr Nelifant, and all the rest, but pretty much everyone who meets you becomes your new best friend and greatest fan. You even convert the baby phobics, so may well end up being responsible for a massive spike in the birth rate.
- How you tolerate every awful thing I do to you. From snot sucking and nail mangling, to bouncing your head off our stupid low beams and dressing you as a cow, you forgive me for it all, and even seem to love me back. Hopefully you'll forgive me for this blog too, in time, and not end up suing me at the age of 16. I can but hope.
- The fact that we can take you absolutely anywhere, and do anything, and you love it all. You've let us drag you 1000 miles across four countries on an epic trip to a German wedding,wheeled you around the chavtastic and very noisy St Gile's Fair (where you met Terrence), and you've accompanied us to restaurants, the cinema, Blenheim Horse Trials (you found them all guilty - boom boom!), and, of course, many, many pubs, and behaved impeccably every time. We were worried having a baby would ruin our social lives, but it's actually made it busier, making us realize that people actually like you better than they like us. Ho hum.
- Your world-beating, awe inspiring, and often terrifying poos. (Come on! You didn't think I'd manage a whole post without mentioning poos, did you?) It's like playing Russian Roulette every time I open your nappy, adding thrill and excitement to my days. And it gives me a great excuse to buy more and more nappies, and to go on and on about how wonderful they are at containing the world's greatest poos to anyone who wanders into my vicinity.
Love from mummy (aka the keeper of the boobs/that strange lady who deals with the poo) xxx