Educating Lourda

Baby D is finally old enough to refer to his age in months, not weeks and has reached the grand old age of four months old today! It got me thinking how much we’ve both learnt since October. Baby D for example has learnt how to hold things (and how to complain when he drops the thing he’s holding). This week he discovered where his knees are, but hasn’t yet figured out that they are connected to his feet. He has mastered the art of looking cute and holding a conversation at three in the morning, in fact do anything at that time except feed which is what he woke up to do in the first place. He is an expert at kicking his socks off in 0.5 seconds but not so good at keeping his bare toes warm. And of course within a few seconds of being born swiftly learnt how to wrap Mam and Dad around his teensy tiny fingers!
My learning curve has been infinitely steeper. I realise now that practising nappy changes on an inanimate teddy bear was of limited value and perhaps I should have tried it on the cat for a more accurate picture of the wailing and wriggling that goes on at the start. I’ve learnt that having a PhD is of no help when dealing with the complexities of buttoning a baby gro on a squirmy baby at 4am. I’ve discovered that hormones are powerful entity. Where once I had to be physically restrained from jumping off a moving tram away from a screaming toddler, now I would jump in front of a tram in order to protect my little Baby D.
One of my happiest discoveries was that babies are difficult to break and are in fact rather bendy. I was relieved to find that I can apparently survive on little or no sleep; but that over time broken sleep affects the memory. I have no doubt that I could fill several notebooks with what I’ve figured out this far if I wasn’t so damn tired and forgotten half of it. (In fact what am I writing about? Oh yes…).
But the biggest thing of all that I have learnt is that my boy is the greatest little miracle ever and I’m proud to say that I’m the biggest, most loving and protective Mother Hen in the world.
Cluck!