9 months

I remember, back when I was drifting about in a sleepy, milk-scented fog and everything about being a mother was brand new (and daunting, to say the least!), 9 months seemed like it was eons away. And yet, here we are, with crawling and size 1 onesies (!) and mashed vegetables and two adorable little toothypegs, and it feels like no time has elapsed at all.


And, I forgot to mention, pulling herself up with every stick of furniture in the house, and ignoring toys and baby-safe items in favour of anything and everything that is not. Like my knitting needles. Gotta run!

Flickr

Sorry for the slack posting, my dears - it would appear that I've been two-timing my blog with Flickr. Oh, new and innovative ways to lure me to the computer ;-)

I'm going to attempt to juggle the two. Along with chasing after Baboushka - even though she hasn't yet mastered crawling, she gets around quite well. The other day I left the room and returned, only to discover that she'd manoeuvred herself backwards and under the sofa. Bad mummy.

She's also taken to making her way over to the bookcase and taking books out, and we had a bit of carnage yesterday. She ripped her first page out (a milestone?) of 'The Monster at the End of This Book', one of my own childhood favourites. Luckily this book managed to avoid the same fate:

And now for something serious..

Last night, Baboushka gave Pat and me a very unpleasant scare. While Pat was changing her nappy, she started choking (on what, we're not sure - probably a bit of vom-vom) and was having difficulty breathing. Pat called me in, I called 000, but thankfully Pat had it sorted before they even picked up. And then I burst into tears and Baboushka, safe and happy, started giggling (cheeky monkey).

In the scale of things, it was pretty minor, but it scared the life out of me. I'm still feeling very serious about the whole thing (light-hearted posts will resume shortly). In fact, I don't think I've ever been so terrified. I was fairly concerned a few months ago when Baboushka's newborn screening tests came back with positive results for both Phenylketonuria and Homocystinuria - false positives, as it turned out, but for a few weeks there, every time I thought about it my heart sank. But this had nothing on the thought that my little girl could... well, it's best left unwritten.

This is an element of motherhood for which I was pretty unprepared. I knew I'd worry and fret, but the extent of these feelings is completely new to me. So here is a question for everyone out there, parent or not: how do you deal with these sorts of feelings?