In the run up to M’s birth, life was hectic. We’d not long moved flats, were barely unpacked and were still getting to know the neighbourhood and which kitchen cupboard we’d dedicated to house what when our son came along. The night we brought him home we realised, 3 o’clock in the morning, that a changing table, or space to function as one, in the bedroom might have been a good idea so a desk was commandeered from another room and a changing table was born. The freezer held food pre-prepped that I’d prepared beforehand but we hadn’t figured out even basic things like an extra clothes horse for cloth nappies to dry or the correct wattage of bulb needed to light the bedroom just so. We were newbies, big time but we learnt pretty quickly – there’s no other choice, really!
This time round, we’re not such newbies, nor do we have the luxury of being so ill-prepared for this birth and post-partum period because we have M to think of now and his needs demand our preparation. But how do you prepare for a newborn plus toddler?
Right now, while I sit here sipping coffee, eating ice-cream…
and the rest of the flat…well, it’s chaos
If you were imagining the ideal home to bring a newborn into – serene, calm, tidy, clean – this is exactly the home you would picture, right?!
As the countdown to this birth nears every day (raspberry tea capsules have been introduced to the daily menu which makes this countdown thing real!) I can’t help having moments of panic when I peek in the kitchen or close my eyes before opening the door to a room because I know that no matter how organised we are this time round, things are not going to be the same as they were last time with M, and our home is not going to resemble that ideal.
Then I rewind back to 5am this morning, when our home was clean and peaceful and M was sleeping contentedly in his (OWN!) bed and reflect on how in the space of seven hours our home went from that scene to the above..
and I realise – again, for the hundredth thousandth time – that it really doesn’t matter whether the mirrors reflect you or the layer of flour. When G and I reflect on our childhoods, though drastically different from each others, the uniting thread is that both of our mothers were stay-at-home-Mums, at least while we were little anyway. The moments we recall with most joy, in amongst mutual commiseration, cringes or sighs of wonder, are those moments when we knew our Mums couldn’t care less about the house being tidy or the floors having been swept because glitter or a pea pod was so much more important than that. Yesterday, the pregnancy app on my phone told me I have 40days ’til my due date. Seeing as we don’t have a date just a time-frame this could mean anything between 35-60 days I have left when I’m able to focus solely on this toddler boy, provide him undivided attention and indulge his whims and daily mood. There is no way that in these last precious days I’m going to waste time cleaning instead of lying cloud gazing with my first-born baby boy, wiping dribble from my eyes as he excitedly attacks me with a tickle-kiss from above.
(ps. yes, if you were counting, that’s 5 outfits in one day! Oy!)