It is time.
It is time to retire the bassinette. The sleeping home of my three little cherubs.
It was the same bassinette that my mother slept in as an infant... the same one my sister Fiona slept in in the early 70's... the same one I slept in in the early 80's...
It has held the children of family and friends for over 65 years. It has held my children on and off for 5 years. It will probably hold the children of my sister and brother (when they have them)...
But for now it is time to retire it.
The bassinette has sat in the corner of our bedroom for 9 months now. It held Silas for basically 6 months...by far the longest of any of our babies. And has sat empty of an infant ever since.
The bassinette, like the bouncer, has since become the receptacle of miscellaneous junk... clean clothes, books, toys... it gets moved out of the way when we need to get into the cupboard against which it stands...
It is time to put it away. For the last time in this house.
But I can't.
The cynical amongst you might say that this is because I value the storage space it gives me... and to an extent they would be right... it would mean actually putting things away where they go instead of just dumping them in the bassinette at the end of the day.
But there is more to it than that.
Even though I know that Silas is my last baby, putting away the bassinette says that his early babyhood is over forever...irrevocably finished. His is 8 months old and yet he is still my tiny boy, who I cradle to feed many times a day...sustenance from my own body. He is still "Baby Silas", dwarfed so tiny next to Bede and Tabitha. He can't crawl yet so the illusion of helplessness is still there... but soon he will be off and moving. My last tiny boy will be moving towards toddlerhood, away from babyhood... away from total dependence on me for his every need.
It is sad.
But it is freeing... it is only a short time that I will have a small boy who needs sustenance only from me... a short time that I will be able to soothe him in the middle of the night with a cuddle and a feed... then I can have my sleep back... and the corner of my room... but my heart will be forever fuller... forever his.
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Friday, January 9, 2015
Ages and Ages Hence...
I have been a mother now for five years come Monday.
I remember being very apprehensive about motherhood. I always thought that the endless days spent at home attempting to entertain a small person (or several small people) would turn me into a drooling mess, unable to communicate effectively or coherently with other adults. I thought that I would lose all ability to think critically about anything of an academic nature again. I thought that people would stop valuing me for my intelligence and professional experience, and that I would become *just* a mum.
How has motherhood been? How has Mr Bede, 5 on Monday changed my life?
Well suffice to say I am not currently a drooling mess, unable to communicate with other adults... I am just as adept at the art of both spoken and written words as I was before the advent of Mr Bede... if anything more so... since having Bede I have given my first talk at a brunch for Christian Women... I have started a Masters Degree in Education (for which I am receiving marks beyond any in my previous academic endeavours, including my first HD)... I have proof-read and edited a Masters Thesis for a friend that received an HD grading... I have a few things to be proud of...
So in that sense, my life is little different. My intellect is intact, and potentially more acute than it was.
But my life experiences?
My life experiences are vastly different to what they were...
Now I know the true horror of the toddler who hasn't napped. I know how to wrestle a rolling baby into an all-in-one suit without scratching or breaking the bones of said baby. I can breastfeed an infant whilst mediating a dispute between two other children, while making dinner.
Is it hard? Yes. There are days where Mr Bede has stretched me to my breaking point. And he hasn't even started.
It is very interesting to watch him grow up. Five years is at the same time a very short but very long time. He has gone from the flailing, crying infant dependent upon me for his every meal, to the flailing, running, jumping, shouting, train-imitating, Boy (and the capital is intentional. He is SUCH a boy) who is still dependent upon me for his every meal but perhaps not in as physically immediate way these days...
We haven't even got to Homework Wars or the dark and shadowy realm of the Teenaged Years to come. He hasn't even gained a fraction of his arguing and negotiating ability... and if his current verbosity us anything to go by, we should be VERY worried.
He can and often does talk from sun up so bedtime without drawing breath, offering a running commentary on anything and everything, asking questions all the time... according to my parents, I was exactly the same. He will talk to anyone he meets and makes friends easily with the person next in line, the kid on the swing, the old person at church... and even after a full day with lots of people will still ask when he is going to see more friends... again, a mini-me... He loves stories and being read to... he can basically recite whole books and chapters of Winnie the Pooh (a gift I think he gets from Daddy)...
He is and has always been a boy on the move. Able to crawl at 6 months and walk at the back end of ten months he could dribble a soccer ball at the tender age of 15 months. Now he loves to practice his fast bowling, and his forehand with equal interest and equal skill. He also loves to ride his bike for hours without stabilisers... This ia a boy who seems to have a natural affinity for sports.
This year Bede starts school up the road. He has been at preschool several days a week for the past two years or so, and has matured so much in that time. He leads the gang of boys in their games with balls, sand, trains, and all sorts of other things. He can and does lead group discussions when he has the preschool 'friend' home to visit for a week and has to report back... leads the discussion, fields questions... you'd think he was born to be in the spotlight... a natural leader.
It will be fascinating to see how school affects him, how he fits in to the group... how he learns and grows and develops... It is an exciting time...
And yet... sometimes I wish he was that tiny baby again. I would do so much differently. But then wouldn't we all? Wouldn't we all cuddle them more and stress about that skipped nap a bit less? Wouldn't we all shout less and rough house more? Tickle more?
Be less annoyed by his endearing quirks? Be less annoyed by his constant (and I do mean CONSTANT) chatter? Be less annoyed by his apparent inheritance of all my bad points?!
In some ways the next few years are going to be a lot about me learning to parent him better... learning to see his similarities to me and love them. Learning to enjoy my own annoying traits... and learning how to teach him to manage them effectively...
I remember being very apprehensive about motherhood. I always thought that the endless days spent at home attempting to entertain a small person (or several small people) would turn me into a drooling mess, unable to communicate effectively or coherently with other adults. I thought that I would lose all ability to think critically about anything of an academic nature again. I thought that people would stop valuing me for my intelligence and professional experience, and that I would become *just* a mum.
How has motherhood been? How has Mr Bede, 5 on Monday changed my life?
Well suffice to say I am not currently a drooling mess, unable to communicate with other adults... I am just as adept at the art of both spoken and written words as I was before the advent of Mr Bede... if anything more so... since having Bede I have given my first talk at a brunch for Christian Women... I have started a Masters Degree in Education (for which I am receiving marks beyond any in my previous academic endeavours, including my first HD)... I have proof-read and edited a Masters Thesis for a friend that received an HD grading... I have a few things to be proud of...
So in that sense, my life is little different. My intellect is intact, and potentially more acute than it was.
But my life experiences?
My life experiences are vastly different to what they were...
Now I know the true horror of the toddler who hasn't napped. I know how to wrestle a rolling baby into an all-in-one suit without scratching or breaking the bones of said baby. I can breastfeed an infant whilst mediating a dispute between two other children, while making dinner.
Is it hard? Yes. There are days where Mr Bede has stretched me to my breaking point. And he hasn't even started.
It is very interesting to watch him grow up. Five years is at the same time a very short but very long time. He has gone from the flailing, crying infant dependent upon me for his every meal, to the flailing, running, jumping, shouting, train-imitating, Boy (and the capital is intentional. He is SUCH a boy) who is still dependent upon me for his every meal but perhaps not in as physically immediate way these days...
We haven't even got to Homework Wars or the dark and shadowy realm of the Teenaged Years to come. He hasn't even gained a fraction of his arguing and negotiating ability... and if his current verbosity us anything to go by, we should be VERY worried.
He can and often does talk from sun up so bedtime without drawing breath, offering a running commentary on anything and everything, asking questions all the time... according to my parents, I was exactly the same. He will talk to anyone he meets and makes friends easily with the person next in line, the kid on the swing, the old person at church... and even after a full day with lots of people will still ask when he is going to see more friends... again, a mini-me... He loves stories and being read to... he can basically recite whole books and chapters of Winnie the Pooh (a gift I think he gets from Daddy)...
He is and has always been a boy on the move. Able to crawl at 6 months and walk at the back end of ten months he could dribble a soccer ball at the tender age of 15 months. Now he loves to practice his fast bowling, and his forehand with equal interest and equal skill. He also loves to ride his bike for hours without stabilisers... This ia a boy who seems to have a natural affinity for sports.
This year Bede starts school up the road. He has been at preschool several days a week for the past two years or so, and has matured so much in that time. He leads the gang of boys in their games with balls, sand, trains, and all sorts of other things. He can and does lead group discussions when he has the preschool 'friend' home to visit for a week and has to report back... leads the discussion, fields questions... you'd think he was born to be in the spotlight... a natural leader.
It will be fascinating to see how school affects him, how he fits in to the group... how he learns and grows and develops... It is an exciting time...
And yet... sometimes I wish he was that tiny baby again. I would do so much differently. But then wouldn't we all? Wouldn't we all cuddle them more and stress about that skipped nap a bit less? Wouldn't we all shout less and rough house more? Tickle more?
Be less annoyed by his endearing quirks? Be less annoyed by his constant (and I do mean CONSTANT) chatter? Be less annoyed by his apparent inheritance of all my bad points?!
In some ways the next few years are going to be a lot about me learning to parent him better... learning to see his similarities to me and love them. Learning to enjoy my own annoying traits... and learning how to teach him to manage them effectively...
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