It feels like yesterday I was being handed a tiny, squawky, shmoo covered baby who looked up at me with big blue eyes, a wrinkley pink forehead and promptly shat on me.
What with such an inauspicious start, I was hopeful that my little baby Rosie would not continue shitting on me for the rest of her life. The jury is still out on that, but so far, I’ve been pleasantly surprised. She’s easy going, mild mannered, goes with the flow. She’s unperturbed by things, happy to watch the world go by. Chilled, even. So many things that her serial worrier of a mother, and her constantly-has-to-be-doing-something father are not.
But she’s 6 months old!!! When did this happen?
In the last six months apparently.
But where was I? How did I miss it? Did I blink? Was I too engrossed in the rollercoaster of emotions that is The Bachelorette? Did my infernal love-to-hate sweeping side fringe fall into my eyes for the eighty billionth time and obscure my already marginally impaired vision? I knew I should have tried to get to the hairdresser more often.
Really, I should have known she was going to get shiz done when she rolled over for the first time at three weeks old.
Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not the kind of mother sporting a self satisfied smile, whispering the word “advahhhhhhhnced” about her children just loudly enough for all the other parents in the room to hear. I was more than willing to admit that my twins reached all their milestones at around the time other babies of their age did, or (more often than not) slightly later. They did things in their own time. They rolled at around 4 months, they weren’t sitting up on their own until they were about 9 months old. They didn’t crawl super early, and they only got their walk on at 13 months-ish. Pretty standard I guess. To be honest, I didn’t really even know what milestones should be reached, let alone when. Other mothers around me were talking about their babies sleeping through the night at three months old, while I felt like a milestone had been hit if I’d brushed my hair sometime that week day (come to think of it, that might be one for the baby milestone cards). With baby twins, life was about just making it to the next day in tact.
So, you can imagine my surprise (and, I admit it, consternation) when Rosie decided to skip the tedium of being a baby and become an adult straight away instead.
Ok, so I’m exaggerating. So unlike me. But this is my baby! My last baby, if my husband and his impending vasectomy have their way! It’s hard enough to get my head around the fact that my three year old twins (who were, what seems like only yesterday, accidentally pooing in the bathtub and trying to grab it) will head off to kindy next year. To umbilical cord mummy over here, this thought alone is something akin to them backpacking across Europe together. Barefoot. With only $30.75, a bus ticket and an out of code can of beans. I can’t even!
STOP GROWING UP SO FAST!!!!
Yesterday when we were out walking, Rosie looked up at me, reached out to touch my face, smiled sweetly and said “dadda”. Yep. So, yes there’s the small issue of the obvious case of mistaken identity (yet further evidence towards the my husband is a better mother than me argument). But. Crawling. Sitting up. Eating actual food. Saying words (albeit the wrong one). What’s next?? Is she going to start sneaking out of the house to smoke cigarettes and hang out with boys? Am I going to offer her some milk only to be met with the suggestion of a kahlua shot to go with?
This is the plight of a subsequent child, perhaps. When we first had babies, there was nothing to crawl to. They just lay there happily under their activity gym, reaching out to the toys dangling above them and gooing and gahing at each other. But for Rosie, there is a whole world of excitement to get to. Railway lines, wooden trains, giant mechanical cranes, duplo blocks scattered across the entire length of our living room floor. Why would she want to idly lie on her mat staring at a fluffy yellow duck that doesn’t even talk back; that can’t even be destroyed with one rogue hand swipe?
So, I suppose I’ll have to get used to this whole growing up thing. I’m not mad keen on the idea though. With my twins, we were so eager to reach each next phase of life and see who these little people were going to become, that sometimes it feels like we almost squandered their babyhood. Now, living with two three year old hooligans, we know what they become and we’re desperate for Rosie to stay a baby for as long as humanly possible 😉 (but not quite so long that she ends up on that creeptastic SBS show ‘I’m an adult baby’). Don’t get me wrong, my twins are hilarious, adorable, clever little apprentice humans who we are totally and utterly besotted with, but they’re hooligans nonetheless.
If nothing else though, my tiny baby who really is still a tiny baby even though she’s seemingly turning into a grown up right before my very eyes, has given me pause to really appreciate every little moment and not wish the time away.
So right now, I’m going to get her out of her bassinet (which she has not yet grown out of!!!! Winning!!), wipe her bottom and love her madly while she looks up at me… and calls me dadda.