I knew about the relentlessness that came with having a baby. My lovely mate Mrs Hanksy told me all about it years before Charlie Bear was even a twinkle in my eye. She’s done the kid thing three times so she knows what she’s talking about. Even so, I swore blind that any child of mine would fit in with my life, rather than making me fit in with his.
But no good can ever come of being a smug know-it-all when it comes to babies.
I knew nothing. I know nothing. Because on day one, Charlie took over our house and told us he would be running shit around here from now on. We have been at his beck and call ever since.
I know that’s the haps with newborns so I am letting him have his way for now. I actually don’t mind tending to his needs, especially when he’s in a good mood, because he is the sweetest bubba the world has ever seen. That said, I hadn’t banked on NEVER BEING ALONE ever again. I don’t think I have done a solo toilet stop since the little bear arrived. And it’s quite disconcerting having your baby in a bouncer, watching with great interest as you do your business.
We travel around the house in a pack – me, him, his blankie and dummy. Wherever I go, the Bear goes. If I dare to attempt to hang clothes, put a wash on, go to the loo without him, or God forbid, take a shower, he lets me know by squawking in an ever increasing volume until I return to his side and/or bring him with me wherever I happened to be going.
Aren’t babies supposed to get separation anxiety around nine months? I mean, I know my kid is advanced and all, but this is ridiculous.
If you have any tips on how I can find time to be alone with myself or possibly alone with my husband before Charlie’s first birthday, I would greatly appreciate you sharing below.
