This post took a little longer to write up as I had just finished celebrating Romans first birthday. I still can’t believe I have a one year old but before I get in to that let talks about the 7 to 11month stage.
This stage is what I call the marathon stage; you don’t have enough training to prepare yourself for this shit. I run myself ragged; it’s messy and a little bit sticky. I’m trying to chase the chubby rolls that have now learned to crawl away and is now on the move and escaping to the forbidden areas. I’m about 30 seconds away from having a mental breakdown because its 7.30 in the evening and that imaginary finish line I was heading towards is suddenly fading further in to the distance. The little ball of chaos that I made has suddenly had a burst of energy and wants to get out every toy from the toy box and kick off because I will not allow him to chew live wires and drawl all over plug sockets. This goes on until he finally gives up about 10 to 10. Yep this is what I call exhaustion.
At 8 months Roman’s first two bottom teeth cut through. I didn’t realise how long the teething process would go on for. He had teethed for months and months, soaking t-shirts, sore red bottom, would even pull on his ears but a few days before they actually cut, I noticed he would press his tongue into his gums and would run his fist over his gums in quite a quick motion, but not forgetting a big sign… the cries! Roman would not even let me put him down for a second without going mental, he was in pain and my heart would just break for him. He didn’t get his two top teeth until he was 11 months which meant he had that break in between.
9 months was quickly approaching which meant my days with Roman were numbered. I was heading back to work; I had such mixed emotions with this. I hated being bloody skint and was looking forward to having some ‘me’ time (Eating lunch alone and even relaxing while I used to the bathroom facilities) but part of me couldn’t bear to leave my little darling. What if I miss out on something or he misses me or I miss him. The only upscale, I wasn’t going back to full time hours. I will be doing 2 and half days a week, which for me is ideal and now I look forward to my days with Roman even more.
The one thing me and my partner didn’t prepare for was the viruses and colds Roman would quickly pick up from nursery. It’s like pass the parcel but with the common cold. It didn’t help that winter was here and the bugs were at their strongest. It felt like Roman was ill every other week, in fact he pretty much was. If you think it’s hard enough looking after a snotty run down baby who has a burning temperature and is refusing to eat, drink and sleep, it’s even worse when you’re looking like something off the walking dead too. I have always had a pretty shit immune system but when the little snot bag is sneezing all over you or shoving his fingers in your mouth (Please don’t ask me why) Or using you has a human tissue you are pretty much doomed. My cupboards are now a working pharmacy.
By 10/11 months old Roman had defiantly moulded in to his proper cheeky boisterous character, his independence was rocketing sky high, from wanting to feed and drink from his own bottle. To his movements; wanting to use furniture to cruise around the room with. He also loves the attention, from the moment we step out the door he will stare anyone down until they notice his presence. I can actually feel some people’s awkwardness when he’s gawking deep into there uncomfortable eyes. He has also shown temper a couple of times now, which felt like he had skipped the cute baby stage and jumped straight in to the terrible twos. This usually does happen when you try and take something off him but I have to say is a damn challenge. I am either pathetically weak or he has the grasp of the fucking hulk, but if he grabs something he shouldn’t and you try to take it off him it’s like a fight to the death. You have to peel the thing away from his clenched iron fist. Okay so this is a slight exaggeration but if you have a hulk child you might relate.
Since being more independent with his feeding I do find myself scraping food of the floor, the walls and sadly my dogs fur (sorry Bailey) Roman likes to play games with chucking the food. He use to do it discreetly, just casually drop it from the side of the chair, but now he has this what I call ‘the fuck you going to do about it attitude’ and now he chucks it with force while making a uughh sound and staring in to my beaten soul. This is not okay; you might wonder why I haven’t disciplined him. You try and tell off a 10 month old child. He literally laughs at me.
While I am on the subject of food I am getting a petition together for us parents, that every food chain whether it’s a restaurant, café or star bucks that when providing hot beverages or deliciously hot meals they just don’t! Just bring it out stone cold, save us the disappointment. By the time we’ve got our child(ren) sorted and fed, ours is looking rather fucking chilled. Knock it down half price and hand it out like were going to end up taking it, room bloody temperature.
If you have managed to stick around through the complaining chapters I have to say it is not as bad as it sounds. There are always highs and lows but most days are a high, and even though Roman’s becoming more independent. That doesn’t mean he still doesn’t want his Mum or Dad because I have actually found he has become more attached to me now he is more aware of everyone around him. He puts his arms out for me, he cries for me and smiles for me (and his Dad as well.) This brings nothing but pleasure and happiness when he feels the safest with me. I stop questioning myself and just think I must be doing something right.
We can say we made it. We have completed the first year. With much help from our special friend Gin who will follow us on our travels into the second year.
romansmumandme.com 