The Not So Bullshit Bits

The other day, my husband came up to me and said, “I like your new blog.” There was, I noticed a distinct lack of enthusiasm. “What don’t you like about it?” I asked. “Well, I was just wondering whether you thought of writing a blog about the bits that aren’t shit? You know, the good stuff?”

He had a point.

So, this is a blog post dedicated to all the good stuff about having a Small because, there is a LOT of good stuff and the good stuff happens everyday. In fact, most days are dominated by the good stuff.

There’s nothing I love more than getting The Small from her cot in the morning. After the usual twenty minutes of babbling as she practices her entire repertoire of words and sounds (cat, dog, boobies, bubbles, down, bye-bye, moo, meow, woof-woof, quack-quack, yes, no, no, no, no) I head in and I kid you not, every morning she is standing there smiling. A big, heart-warming, genuine smile totally unencumbered with any worries, concerns, exhaustion. It’s inspiring and honestly, I could cry with joy every time I see it.

She’s an eater too. It’s very rare that she refuses anything I put down in front of her. She’ll gobble up fish, beans, spinach, porridge balls, steak, chicken…you name it…she’ll eat it. In fact, we now are on the hunt for things she won’t eat. Currently tomatoes are on her shit list, along with carrots, but beyond that she’ll chow down on anything. She loves an olive, smoked salmon, lemon, lime, blue cheese, soft cheese, any kind of cheese, pickles…you name it, she’ll eat it and there’s nothing cooler than watching her shove food down her gob box.

On a daily basis, we have a giggle-fit. Recently it’s been because we’ve been practising happy-face and frowny-face. When we try and switch between them quickly we both end up crying with laughter. Yesterday we descended into laughter which, I’m pretty sure, both made us wet ourselves a little bit, over bellybuttons. She discovered her belly button and then could not stop fiddling with it. Not content with navigating the ins and outs of her own, she insisted on discovering mine too. I don’t know about you, but it’s a fine line between disgust and hilarity when someone else is fiddling with your belly button. (If my neighbour, Marie, is reading this, I can promise you all that she just threw up a little bit in her mouth…she HATES bellybuttons).

And mayonnaise. But that’s another story.

So, what else? The Small has discovered the garden and digging and carrying buckets and spades around and picking daisies and kicking balls and blowing bubbles. She quite honestly shakes and shits herself with excitement when there are bubbles. Her excitement is so uncontrollable she can’t help but growl with unbridled energy that explodes from her. When I see it, feelings of true content surge inside me because I know that these awesome, joy-flled experiences are instantly and constantly moulding her strength and character and sense of humour and capacity to love.

That’s a pretty damn special thing.

Bathtime. Bedtime stories. Watching me dry her hair in the mirror. Brushing her teeth. These are all things that make her happier than I could ever have imagined.

I could write and write and write about all the wonderful things and experiences until I break the internet…but for now, know this. I write about the tough stuff, the hard stuff, the painful stuff because not enough people do write about it but it only makes up a small pocket of my experience as a momma.

The majority of it is wonderful. Truly.

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