You know I spend ages just staring at my little girl. It sounds like a monumental waste of time, it is, but I couldn’t imagine spending my time any other way. She’s 6months old in a few days, and she really is a GREAT baby. She sleeps through the night more often than not, she is happy to have independent play or interact, she eats whatever is put in front of her and is just generally a happy baby. This week, she was sick for the first time. This involved a restless night sleep, an hour of vomiting, and then she was fine. Like I said – great baby.
This morning it was unusually chilly, so when she woke up, I pulled her into my bed and we snuggled under the covers. Her; softly chatting to me. Me; just staring at her; smugly thinking to myself about how wonderful she is. It was time for her bottle, so we snuggled up and I stared lovingly at her while she peacefully had her bottle.
5 months and 29 days. The hardest, most rewarding, messy, magic, lovely days of my life, and I have the most incredible baby to show for it. It was so hard in the beginning. Isolating, mind numbingly sleep deprived, emotional, unsure, filled with self doubt and uncertainty… Looking at her, I felt like I was finally getting the hang of it. We had a rhythm. Me and her, we were rocking this.
5 months and 29 days. I’m actually doing alright at this. I mean, look at her. She’s amazing. I did that. Hell, I’m amazing.
5 months and 29 days of awesome. And about half a second to bring me crashing back down to reality. A poonami like I’ve never seen shot out of my little girl. Out the sides, out the back, up the front. I was covered in shit. She was covered in shit. I sat there pretty horrified as it slid down my legs towards my sheets. Oh that’s right – we’re snuggling in my bed remember!
I reached for something anything to mop up the poo. There was nothing within reach. I was going to have to get up. She started screaming for the rest of her bottle, and then kicking. As she flicked shit across my bedroom and onto my face with her perfect little feet, I was faced with a choice. Sit in shit and finish the feed, or have the mother-of-all poo-flicking tantrum on my hands and attempt to salvage my sheets.
We sat in shit. Her; perfectly oblivious to the poo peacefully enjoying the rest of her bottle. Me; just watching it slide down my legs and pool on my 1000 thread count sheets; trying to spot all the flicks on the bed head, pillows and doona; and trying not to think about how much poo was potentially on my face.
Serves me right for being a smug bitch.
Has the universe reminded you not to me smug lately?
Today can only get less shitty from here right? Also, no outfit picture for today, because, well, it’s covered in poo.