Five years and more since trying to become a mum and six months four days since becoming one

Dear Louse

You were a right old bag of tantrums and grumpiness yesterday. You must have woken up on the wrong side of the cot as it started early. You eased up in the afternoon when we let you loose around the Natural History Museum, but then kicked off again after Pa let the buggy fall backwards when trying to mount the train home, waking you un petit peu abruptly from a nice nap that we all needed. Such was some of the screaming we wondered if you were in sudden pain, even cousin K, who is a doctor, checked you over to make sure there was nothing actually wrong. But we all concluded that you are now officially testing us.

I do hope we pass. Will you mark us out of ten? How will we know how we have done? Will we have to stay behind to see you after school?...

It also has to be noted that you have become very clingy to me in particular, sometimes making Pa feel a bit left out.

And it should also be noted that this evening at dinner you were experimenting with Petit Filous and broccoli + pasta. I think you may be acting out some of the recipes/performances from The Futurists' Cookbook.

Five years and more since trying to become a mum and a few days over six months since becoming one

You did something new today – took a swipe at a little friend's face as he sat on my knee while I read him a book.

When you saw he was on my knee and you were not, you came waddling over and demanding to come up too. You then promptly took your potshot at his face. Very very animalistic. And very very not nice. You and F get along so well, I was quite taken aback. In some ways perhaps I should be proud or pleased as it indicates a new level of possessiveness towards me, but I kind of didn't like it and felt embarrassed. Luckily F's ma is a good old friend, and luckily you & F are little enough to have the memories of goldfish when it comes to emotions, things go fleetingly, so it was all over quite fast and you were (sort of) laughing again.

In the last two weeks there have been the starts of what I understand is Terrible Twos behaviour. A wee bit ahead of schedule. Hang on, did I write this already in my last posting... I think I did. Anyway, there's definitely something afoot and I must read the toddler book for some coping methods. More for me than for you!

My cousin K is here from France and she is very impressed by you, by your independence, by your quickness, and by pretty much everything. She's the first of that side of the family to meet you and it means a lot to me that she's here. I felt quite emotional presenting you to her, the long awaited child, and held back a tear or two. (Why....?? Why held back I mean, why not let go). And what's brilliant is that she's totally amazed at how much our kid you are, physically as much as everything else. She says we deserve a pat on the back for turning you out so good. But I don't think I deserve a pat on the back yet, not quite; I can't help thinking a lot of it is just you and who you are. She's impressed by how easy you are – sleeping well, eating well, eating yourself, playing well, being sociable. But I don't think those things are created by us, perhaps encouraged yes and developed, but I think they're just in you.

Quite a lot of challenges coming up as I will be taking a work trip away for 4 days, we're having our first family holiday in Devon, and ... argh... there was something else but I just totally lost my train of thought. That happens a lot...

One thing you cannot inherit from me is my duck feet. A blessing.

An eternity since trying to become a mum and forever since becoming one

Lordy, today for the first time, I properly questioned my parenting ability. When you are challenging, you are extremely challenging. There's a look in your eye that seems very very intentional, like you know exactly what you're doing with your tantruming. Is this the terrible twos a little ahead of schedule?? Both of us agree it's quite scary and it's like you really hate us in that moment. But like all kiddies, the moment passes quickly for you soon as whatever caused the fracas has been remedied, whilst Pa and I are left quivering. Pa just gets exasperated whilst I have that sudden rise of the red mist that I've mentioned before. It is something I am aware of and desperately trying to address within myself, but I very actively have to stop myself from flipping. I have started giving you 5 second time outs and I think they are as much for my benefit as yours. You think it's a counting game...

Parenting seems to loudly point out to me that I have a childish side simmering not far below the surface; there's something in this about my own repressed behaviours that are triggered and vexed when your behaviour is untethered. I can't formulate the thought more than that for the time being.

All that said, I am able to control myself and very quickly catch myself whilst giving myself a split second analysis of the situation so even though the anger is definitely set off, I only very fleetingly show it and am learning to calm myself. But I must be careful about withdrawing in order to calm myself. I've read about withdrawn parenting and it's not a good thing. But is it still considered withdrawing if you just take a short pause in order to compose yourself? Answers on a postcard in less than 12 words.

We think you've got molars coming in which may account for some of your short fused-ness recently. I hope they were worth it...!

An eternity since trying to become a mum and really nearly six months since becoming one

I am a tad tired today after 5 straight days with you from the first awakening to the last peep. As I write this you are in your room next door asleep. Not. You are chattering away and singing to yourself. Which brings me to my next point: I have the ducking Sesame Street ABC song embedded in my head, I have Bah Bah Black Sheep also welded into my brain, I have little scratches all over my hands and face from you swiping at me, my hands are red raw from being wet then dry, I am kicked in the stomach on a daily basis when changing your nappy, I have a bloodshot eye from a headbutt, my waistline has expanded from eating your leftovers as well as just eating more and less well for energy/time reasons respectively, I am wearing 'comfy' 'practical' clothing very often indeed (recent stains include poo, sick and blood, see 8th Feb posting), my body feels really properly knackered and working my way back to running even just 5k is a major effort. And I didn't even have a pregnancy...

Not that any of it matters, it's just worth noting quite how physical becoming a parent is.

I've nothing else to say; not even sure why I offloaded that little lot. I wish I could attach a recording of you right now to this blog as the soundtrack – you're singing a mixture of ABC, Bah Bah Sheep Sheep and Twinkle Twinkle, laughing to yourself, and chucking things out your cot.

An eternity since trying to become a mum and very nearly six months since becoming one

Whatever sort of parent you think you will be, be prepared for some surprises.

I am stricter in some ways that I did not expect and I am more lenient in other ways that I certainly did not expect. I have found unexpected patience and I have found unbelievable tiredness to shorten my fuse considerably. I am worried, frightened and anxious of things I didn't anticipate, and at the same time as making life fantastic, I am also thinking about death more often and more painfully than usual – I miss people that have gone and I shudder for the losses that will inevitably come. Alexander Macqueen, who will be long gone and maybe forgotten by the time you read this, died unexpectedly yesterday. I, probably like many others, immediately assumed some sort of misadventure with recreational drugs, but how wrong I was. It turns out he killed himself out of grief for the recent loss of his mother. There you have a man, at the pinnacle of his career, surrounded by people who adore him, successful and wealthy, who lost his mum and couldn't find a reason to live any more. And I can empathise with him very deeply, I can absolutely imagine the pain he felt, the sadness, I even project onto him that he must have suddenly felt very alone and rudderless without the woman who brought him into the world. I have lost a parent, and you have lost two in a way, but in the end I did not want to kill myself. I hope you find ways of dealing with the losses you will have.

So, this death hit me as I am between two pillars being both a daughter and a mother. I already worry about the death of own mum and what it will do to me, and I worry because being a slightly older mum to you, although now it's become very common to become a parent in one's 40s, you will probably not have me in your life as long as you would a younger mum, presuming all things go according to plan.

That's me all over – I worry about food being chucked around and making a mess, and I worry about death. Nothing in between really.

To entertain ourselves, we made you a hat like a Hershey's Kiss.

Five years and counting since trying to become a mum and very nearly six months since becoming one

We had a very active weekend with friends and their kids. We also had a very challenging time with bodily fluids from you. Poop, sick and blood all in the space of about two hours: two baths, two sets of pyjamas, one sodden buggy, one fraught mum and one understanding friend followed by a wee whisky.

I have also had some challenging moments in my own head. Nothing I care to recount right now, but I took myself aside and had a stern word with myself. I would have put me on the naughty step, but we haven't allocated one yet. I have decided that when I am an *rse and behave selfish and childishly, I apologise to you verbally in the hope that that somehow redresses the balance and makes it sort of ok. I try to explain that I am having a moment, but normal service has resumed and mummy loves you and is sorry.

I do try to monitor your behaviour in the light of my own during these moments, to see if you clock my changes in behaviour. I think you probably do, but are little enough to not be flustered by them. 99% of the time I think I'm doing well, but when these little moods hit... I realise I can no longer indulge myself in them like what one can when one is single / not a mum. In this instance, I took myself off quietly to have a shower and get over myself.

This week you have mostly banged your face on the floor and sneezed.

Five years since trying to become a mum and nearly six months since becoming one

I had a really clever thought about being a mother today, about what it is to be one. But it's slipped my mind.

That probably says more than my smartarse musing would have!

We had a social worker visit today, not an official one, just a catchup with E, your social worker. She's very lovely and it was good to see her, but also strange as it's been two whole months now without any such visits. We slightly go into overdrive about how brilliant it all is, how settled you are, how you're doing this that and the other, and how clever you are and attached to us you now are. All of which is true, but that feeling of pleasing the social workers never leaves one. Once you're irrevocably 'ours', not long now, I'm not sure what dealing we will have with the social work system or if we're cut loose. I think it's there if you need it, but the assessment period is truly over. Til the next child, if there is to be one. Luckily I didn't have blood on my top this morning, like I do now from earlier when you smashed your face on the floor whilst careering around the living room. Ah, wooden floors.

I have a massive urge to get very pissed. I'm not a big drinker, definitely a binge drinker. That doesn't look so good written down does it... But I mean that I like the feeling of being a bit pissed much more than the taste of wine for the sake of it. Oh I just remembered my clever thought – it was about how parenting is like Groundhog Day, but a really good one where you don't mind doing the same things every day. But that leads into the wanting to get pissed thing, because lovely though it is, I do love that release and abandon of a couple of drinks from the daily sensible role.

On that note, Pa Cooke is having himself a little party for one in his office/den whilst I make dinner, blog, fold laundry and plan tomorrow's activities.

Five years since trying to become a mum and nearly six months since becoming one

I am your mum. I really am. I'm the one you turn to for reassurance, I'm the one you seek out in a crowded room and I'm the one that can comfort you when you're tired.

I think it's astounding how normal it feels and I catch myself sometimes, have to remind myself that it's not a game. Having wanted it for so long and imagined so many children, it's quite mind boggling at times to find myself right in the middle of it in a very very real way.

I love kids, but not any and all by any means! But I find you fascinating and I'm amazed to be your mum. You are very quick to learn and very clever, though most parents probably think that I suppose. But you are. You understand so much already. We babysat T on Saturday who is now 1, the age you were when we came together. I was a bit taken aback by how much a baby he still is, quite passive and static. I found it very hard not to compare you and to think that he was a bit... slow... He's not, but you were babbling and marauding around at 1 like you had places to be, people to see. Still now, you swagger like an old sailor sometimes, sucking one handed on your nighttime milk as though it were a comforting rum, whilst farting on my leg then tossing the empty bottle away for it serves you no more purpose. Hysterical. You make me laugh a lot.

We're now experimenting with you feeding yourself.