That's not so long ago, but apparently long enough for my little guy to out-grow most of his clothes. Now I like to think I'm good at maths, but I've started to doubt myself... 7 weeks is less than 3 months, right? Well this 7 week baby-shaped peg is not fitting into these 3 month clothes-shaped holes. A short time for something to grow so quickly and it reflects my increasing fondness for this little guy.
Bye bye tiny baby clothes.. 'til next time
I've never been a 'baby person' and I'm also not one for 'mine's better than yours' playground antics, so I find it sad when I hear other mum's stating they have the cutest baby, especially when they're so blatantly wrong as my little lad is obviously the winner of the cute wars ;-) All jokes aside, it's incredible how Mother Nature takes over, turning beer-guzzling rock chicks who avoid babies and children, into tea drinking, house-keeping baby-carers who love their new role (Roll? Did someone say roll?! The little lad rolled over for the first time today and I'm very proud, but what makes me happier is that it was witnessed by Daddy, via video call!).
I always knew I wanted a family of my own one day and although I imagined becoming 'motherly', I did want to raise a son who shared my love of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Before I became a parent, my sister was talking about being moved to tears of happiness at 'baby sensory', when her son was clapping to the song "Reach" by S Club. I made a promise to myself that if I ever cry to a song like that, it would be because of my pain of enduring such a naff tune.
I broke that promise.
The little guy was crying. A tired boy. 'Singing?' I thought. Singing could work... so I started with a gentle Smashing Pumpkins track, but then I forgot the words, so tried a few others to no avail, so I moved on to a less cool tune, but at least the lyrics had a nice message; Richard Marx's 'Right Here Waiting'. But then something happened. I started to think about things. Over-think things. "Oceans apart, day after day.." (My husband works away) then the tears started to flow. Crying baby, crying me, and I didn't even get to the nice bit of the song!
When I finally composed myself, the next song to randomly pop in my head (not a proud moment..) was the campfire classic, "Ging Gang Goolie". Worst part of it all? As I rocked the little lad, he smiled softly and drifted to his slumber.
All together now, "Ging gang goolie goolie goolie....."
Aw, this post was worth burning pasta to the bottom of the pan! I used to sing an old Scottish song, "Billy Bally". Worked everytime and wasn't sad!
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