Two weeks ago when picking up Jarvis from daycare I burst into tears on his carer’s shoulder. They were tears tied up in all sorts of emotions – sadness, pride, nostalgia and gratitude. This was the woman I handed over my eight-month-old baby to two years ago and now the toddler boy at our feet was walking out of the centre for the last time – we were changing day care centres.
Ah, my little blog home I’ve been neglecting you lately. Usually I’d feel guilt over such neglect, but there is no time for guilt trips when you’ve got a newborn to snuggle and a toddler to keep up with.
My baby boy is now 10 weeks old, this time whizzing by like a blink of a heavy-lidded eye. He is doing so well and so am I, which I’ve decided is just as important. I’ve been going easier on myself, this time around. Taking time out when I need it, checking in with any anxious feelings to find out what was causing them and turning any negative chatter around with positive self-talk.
It hasn’t been as zen as all that though. I’ve struggled with balancing the needs of both my boys – diffusing toddler tanties, while trying to soothe a catnapping newborn. Leaving the house has been an exercise in patience, with J boy now refusing to get in a pram and insisting on walking, which would be fine if he didn’t decide he was tired and start lying down on footpaths. Continue reading