Baby with Attitude.


I am not sure why you do not like me. I thought we had such a good relationship. I held you for hours naked to my skin when you were a newborn, breathing you in, trying to slow my heart rate so that my anxiety would not seep through me and into you. We played for hours on end, well I can understand why you would think it was play. I would sit with the toys or leaves, dangling them, spinning them and sometimes even turn myself around in circles in order to entertain you. To stop you from crying.

It is not a WonderWeek, of that I am certain. Because when Sally (we shall call her Sally here) visited today you were all Peaches ‘n Cream,
smiles and giggles,
cuddles and love.

It is also not teething because there is no nappy rash, drooling, chewing, rosy cheeks, pulling of the ears.

The wingeing and crying became too much at two hours and luckily for me it was time to go out to Giggle and Wiggle and songs in the library. I scooped you up and hurriedly, no I forgot to pack the damn bottle. Ok, got that, so I scooped you up and rushed out to the car. Strapping you in was a nightmare as your screamed as if in pain and arched your back making it near impossible to strap you in. (Yes, I am writing this with you’re playing near me, but daddy is there for company as mum just needs to get this out. And we go to bed so early due to your consistent 5am wake-up that this is really the only time I get to… why am I justifying myself? Why do I feel the need to justify myself…).


You were so engaged at the library, watching the librarians sing and wiggle, gazing at all the other babies who were wriggling and talking just like you. And then came the car business again. This time you really threw your back into it, sliding down and out of the seat, undoing the straps one, two, three… Oh would you bloody stop it. I growled and firmly pushed you into the seat. Why? Strap, strap.

Meeting dad.

I needed to go into my new office so we meet up with Mr. A. I did not want to go into the office with you because I need them to think that I am independent. That having a child will not impede my commitment to the job. Hang on, do dad’s need to think of this shit? You were all smiles and cuddles again with dad as I skipped raced walked to my office. Mr. A seemed so on top of it, unflustered, even enjoying himself when I returned. It made me feel guilty. My last Thursday with you and all I wished for was a better mood.

I talked up the car business as we finished our lattes and strolled to the car park. Dad helped you into the car and I braced for it. The mood. The screaming. But it never came. You relaxed into the seat and let dad strap you in calmly. Before we even left the car park I noticed how quiet you were and took a peak in the rear vision mirror – you were asleep. I managed to transfer you from the car into the cot for a whopping two hour nap. Bliss. Preparation for the new job. Reading. Eat lunch. Feet up.


IMG_2138I raced into the bedroom hoping for a better mood. But nothing. Wingeing and crying again like in the morning when it was just us two. I decided enough was enough and that a change of scenery was what we needed. Outside we went into the leaves to play. I spun, I twirled, I crumbled the leaves over your head. But you returned the call with moaning and rocking. Right, food. And a bottle. Climbed on the couch and grizzled and groaned with some foot stomping. I pulled out my camera for some selfies to distract you.

Knock, knock.

Sally arrived, Peace.

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