Yesterday you turned Twenty Three months old. Almost two. I can’t quite get my head around you being two but at least I have another month to come to grips with it. Yes, I’m the stereotypical mother astonished at how days can feel like they drag for weeks and yet it’s like yesterday I held you in my arms for the very first time.
Perhaps the newborn stage doesn’t feel so long ago because you seem to be sleeping much like one lately. The bedtime wrangle has turned into a full-scale battle. Your delay tactics include ‘more drink’, ‘more books, pwease’, ‘socks on/ socks off’ (constantly pulling them off as soon as I put them back on) and of course if all those fail, the trusty ole scream-thrash on the floor. The hour that it takes to get you to sleep would be bearable if you happily slumbered for the next twelve. Alas, that is not the case and most nights after cuddling you back to sleep multiple times before midnight I give up and we climb into the spare bed together and I pray we make it past 5am without anymore crying. I do so love the cuddles and love that you feel you need me close when you sleep but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit the little broken sleep we’ve all been getting has made for short tempers and cranky afternoons. So Monster, please, for mummy and daddy’s sanity’s sake, learn to love your sleep as much as we do!
To be fair some of the uber-crap sleeping this month can be put down to you having
the plague hand, foot and mouth disease. While many toddlers are afflicted with only a smattering of spots, you my poor child, got it BAD. So much so that the virus should probably be renamed – hand, foot, mouth, arms, legs and bum disease. Despite the bad sleeping you were a rather stoic patient, more frustrated by the parent-imposed quarantine than by the illness. According to you the blisters on your feet were ‘bites’ caused by ‘bugs’. Which would explain your sudden dislike for all bug-like creatures and why one day while hanging out with daddy you suddenly rushed over to the sink, yelling ‘bug, bug, bug’, snatched the dust-pan and brush from the cupboard and lunged at a cockroach scuttling under the fridge. The cockroach was adequately maimed but you weren’t satisfied until daddy had launched him out the window. When I got home that afternoon you told me with great satisfaction that the bug was ‘gone’. Monster, bug-exterminator extraordinaire.
Your know a few months ago when we were thankful you were yet to parrot your potty-mouthed parents? Yeah, well that metaphorical swear-ship has sailed. Mostly we can put the expletives down to the fact that your pronunciation is still developing and most F-words you utter seem to sound like THE F-word. Except of course when you break them out at a totally appropriate moment in conversation or like when your daddy puts his foot flat to the floor to merge across oncoming traffic and you exclaim ‘OH FAAAARRK’. We translate that to ‘oh, fast’ but we could well be kidding ourselves.
This month has been characterised by little sleep but also lots of fun. You are all about ‘play’ at the moment. Whether it’s making your teddy ‘dance’, playing chase with daddy or making your cousins ‘roll’ on the ground with you, you love getting everyone involved with your games. It’s wonderful to see your social skills develop and your imagination blossom. The sequels of laughter and the gigantic smiles also make the sleep deprivation much more bearable.
For the next thirty days I’m going to be soaking up what it means to be a mum to a one year old because you will be two all too soon.
I love you monster.