Posted in Humour, Life, Miscellaneous

You at 9 months

Lana, I’m writing these letters to you in the hope that one day (maybe when you’ve done something really bad), I can whip them out as blackmail, a little guilt trip back in time, like any good mother would do. But also, and mainly, because I never want to forget this.

This is my first letter.

As I type this, you are at Daffodils Nursery. A cute little name for a place we dreaded these last few months. We debated (your father and I . I don’t debate with many more people) whether to place you there , for how many hours, days , etc, until the time came for both of us to start working again and off you went.

I’m not going to beat about the bush here … you hated it. I was impressed by your ability to recognise the street we were on so that you could cry its’ entire length before we got to the door.

But you are better now. Much better.

Zoe, your key worker, has told me you are the happiest baby there. Although I’m not sure that says a lot. All the other children there have what some people nowadays (it’s 2016) are calling “Resting Bitch Face”.

When you come home later, it will be dinner-time. One of the most fun times now that you’re mastering how to use your hands.  You haven’t quite managed to master the pincer movement to get food into your mouth, but for a girl who didn’t have any nerve endings in her fingers until recently you’re not doing so bad . (Don’t freak out – *all* babies don’t have nerve endings there in the beginning).

You talk to us constantly. The early mornings and late evenings are your favourite times for babbling. You also talk to everything else ; the cat, your teddy bears, the floor, the washing machine, the fridge, everything.

I talk to you in Serbian as much as I can in the hope that one day you will master both languages, and I can go home to your grandparents, grand aunts and uncles and not feel completely mortified that you don’t speak the language.

Night-times are a topic of conversation all the time. Mostly because you sleep like a baby (i.e. in very short intervals). I’m not sure why this has taken both your father and I by surprise, but it has. I guess we just hoped you’d have gotten the hang of sleeping by now. (Who doesn’t like sleeping!? I’ll tell you who… Lana). I want to tell you that the world will *not* end if you sleep for longer than two hours at a time. But you have other plans, I get it.

All in all Lana, we can’t do life without you now. So I’ll check in here every now and again to tell you how it’s going.

Until next time .



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