Elsie Belle…Eight Months Old

I literally can’t keep up.

Life seems to have us still engulfed in a rabbit hole of never-ending feeding, playing, naps and tidying and each day still blurs into one; If there’s one thing that makes each day so different and exciting, it’s watching Elsie grow. I don’t think I will ever tire of waking up to her beautiful big eyes staring back at me, full of love and anticipation for another day in her baby bubble.

While I’m frantically knocking myself for not achieving much in a day, for not having the energy to put that endless pile of washing away, for not having ticked off as many ‘to-do’ tasks- there she is, my little gift. A constant reminder that even though I might struggle each day still trying to manage our hectic new life, every new milestone and smile tells me that we are doing something right, regardless of anything else.

So whilst we continue to spiral down our rabbit hole together little one, I’ve taken a moment to reflect on you my darling girl, at eight months old…

That scream. It’s beyond ear piercing. You do it for no apparent reason, other than to test out your vocal cords, burst everyone’s ear drums within a five mile radius, and to oh, remind us that you are there. As if we could forget. You’re like an alarm that triggers every time someone’s eyes are taken off you.

The raspberry blowing is getting a tad ridiculous. To the point where we are feeding you from a distance and then ducking for cover. It would be easier to feed a pool of piranhas, the speed we have to retreat in order to avoid whatever garishly coloured mush you, so amusingly, keep blowing all over our faces. Still, you are finding it highly amusing and are even shaking your head to mimic me when I’m telling you no. You moo! It’s time to move on now, learn a new trick. Preferably one that doesn’t leave us all pebbledashed in pureed vegetables please.

If I so much as uncross my legs to stand up you flip your lid as if I was about to up and leave without you on a round the world trip. Mummy needs to pee at some point during the day. Mummy also needs to drink and hang the washing out on the same day it finishes it’s cycle.

You are starting to wave. Although it’s more of an upper cut at the moment, so no one wants to get too close in case you bop them one straight in the eye. It’s a work in progress. We’ll get there soon sweets as long as you don’t start dishing out right handed jabs instead of blowing kisses one day. Then I’ll start to worry.

Still no teeth but we can see little glistens of pearly whites just beneath the surface ready to pop! I brought you an Amber bracelet to help soothe your teething pain but you’re chubby legs are just too chubby for the size I brought and it was cutting off your circulation. We’ll just have to stick to teething rings for the time being.

You are so much fun. Sometimes, when you’re not screaming in my face, we just laugh together. No reason, just giggling, tickling, smiling and just being together. These are the moments I want to cherish the most.

You have perfected the bum shuffle. Which is fun and terrifying all at the same time. It’s great that you are figuring out how to move, but it also means that we have to watch where we sit you. No longer can we plonk you somewhere remotely precarious before you’re bouncing forward like a kangaroo with an itchy bottom. 

Your face plants are brilliant. Sadly you don’t see the funny side right now but I’m hoping some day you will, so of course I’m documenting them. You’ve nutted the washing basket, got your head stuck in your toy basket and have landed in some awesome positions, many of which you will never be able to reconstruct by the time you go to school.

Your hair is starting to grow. Your beautiful fluffy blonde locks are sprouting. You’ve got some sort of double cow’s lick going on at the front which resembles two golden horns. I’ve been telling everyone that you’re going to look like a Yam, but I’ve been corrected that in fact I meant Ram. Our hairdresser informs me that you’ll struggle to have a fringe one day because of these curly horns, but you’ll no doubt keep banging on about a fringe until I let you have one cut, then we’ll just spend the next year (no doubt in High School) frantically trying to clip it down and grow out your dodgy barnet. Shall we just say I told you so now and be done with it?

I don’t think I’ll ever tire of seeing you see the world around you. Even when you’re lunging forward for my laptop or chucking toys over your shoulder to get to the remote control. Watching you start to really see things and enjoy your little world is simply amazing. You get excited when we sit down for baby sensory, mesmerised by the songs and loving all the colours and objects around you. You’ve always loved being in water and you’ve start flapping your arms now when your see the swimming pool for your baby swim classes. I love watching you look so content, floating around the pool, grabbing toys and kicking your chubby little legs and arms around.

When you smile at me my heart melts. Everyone says you only smile for mummy. Even though I know that’s not entirely true, I feel a little smug inside knowing that your smile for me is my reward for everything I’ve done the past eight months, and everything I will continue to do for the rest of my life. That smile fills me with so much pride and so much love for both of us. Even surrounded by chaos and mess, we make a good little team you and I, and I can’t wait to continue this beautiful journey together.

Until next time…

With Love & Eight Months Old,

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