They Start Young
These days, at least once a day when I’m with Chots, I say to myself “and he’s only 15 months old!” sometimes with a sense of wonder, sometimes with anger, as I try and behave like an adult and graciously absorb all the delight and grumpiness he throws my way. At 15 months old, the boy enjoys disobeying me with the relish of adventure, with a gleam in his eye that’s hard to describe. Like how close can he get to the electricity socket before I go charging at him. He’ll take a step, look back at me watching him, warning him with my eyes and a stern no, but he’ll take another step, look back at me and grin and on it goes. It’s a game for him and I think I’ve twigged why. I let him eat food off the floor (some floors), bite and suck unpeeled oranges, lick pebbles (he likes licking pebbles!), pat any passing dog or a cat he can get close enough to, bang on restaurant tables and run around between people’s legs. So fair enough to say I’m rather relaxed about most of the stuff and I guess he gets excited when he finds something that will get me worked up.
My Life vs Chotu’s Happiness
In all matters of “play” I usually look at two factors:
1. Is this a hassle for me?
and
2. Is the boy having fun?
Yep, I put myself first because let’s face it, the boy is easily distracted and I’ll probably make it up to him but if my schedule or life go more awry than what I’m ready for, I’m not going to be a happy bunny and that doesn’t bode well for the boy. The other day I took him to an animal farm and after 20 minutes, he ignored the hens and the geese and the goats and the sheep and the pigs and the cows and started playing in a muddy puddle. It must have been fun, because soon two other toddlers joined him, one of whose mummies gave me a few unpleasant looks, like it was my fault her son was now covered in mud like mine. They were dirty but happy, so in my book that was a good day. I also get looks as I let him have full-throated tantrums on the train platforms when I, being a very cruel mother obviously, won’t let him jump onto the train tracks. He lies sprawled at my feet, his clothes a mess, his face red and nose runny and I stand there trying to smother my laughter at his drama-queenery.
Having Perspective
But
sometimes, when he’s screaming and wriggling while I’m changing his dirty
nappy, simply because he can’t be bothered to lie still and make his mother’s
life easy, it’s hard to keep it all in till my unsuspecting husband gets back
from work, or just ring my mother and tell her what a pain in the arse her
grandson is, while she feebly defends him long-distance. And then I remind
myself that he’s only 15 months old – and worse is probably still to come! So
here’s the best piece of advice I was given: Don’t become cocky and don’t
become despondent. Everything changes very quickly with little ones. That, and do your Kegels!
(The author is a former TV journo and currently the Head of Communications and Marketing at Anthemis Group in London. She became Mama to baby Leo in April 2015. She started this blog as an outlet for the intense, roller-coaster experience that pregnancy and motherhood entail. And for recording the journey with as much humour – black mostly – as she can cram in. Oh and dispensing free gyan as she ticks the been there, done that milestones.)
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