This week has seen two monumental milestones which have quite literally sent me into meltdown...
Now my Darcie has never been a petite baby. Even when pregnant and having growth scans to check that she was developing correctly (my son was only 3lb when born) she was off the chart. At 33 weeks pregnant I was measuring 49 weeks pregnant. How is that even possible?? Anyway, she didn’t come out at the 13lbs that my 'expert' consultant predicted she would be - she was a respectable 7lb12oz but soon set about making 13lb her target weight as soon as possible. From the off she was a guzzler, I felt like having Dairy Crest emblazoned across my boobies and nothing changed when we started weaning. She’s currently just less than eight months and I still enjoy the look on people’s faces when they ask her age and you can tell they’re clearly shocked. ‘Oh’ they say ‘she’s going to be a big girl isn’t she?’ Her dad is 6’3’’ and I’m nearly 5’9’’...we were never going to have a wee tiddler of a babe. In fact I'm seriously considering changing her name to Miranda...you know the comedienne on BBC 2? I have visions of Darcie being her double.
Well, we took one look at her sumo-sized body in her baby car seat and decided enough was enough. Getting her into the seat was like juggling clouds and once she was in the car her knees were practically resting on her chin (s). So off to a well known and reputable car seat selling shop we went.
The man was very helpful and very nice and very lovely... even if a little garlicky. In his defence he apologised as he'd had garlic bread with his lunch....great luncheon choice when dealing with the general public. Well he took one look at gigantor baby and didn’t feel the need to weigh her as she was clearly big enough. We sat her in a number of seats before we decided on a particular one. When I say ‘we’ decided it was more her deciding really as she whooped for glee when sat in a particular one! Out to the car we went for the ‘tutorial’ on putting the seat in carefully and correctly. It was at this point I felt the tears starting to threaten to spill. Again. This situation could be particularly embarrassing due to a) being in a public place b) there was no real reason to cry and c) I didn’t want lovely, kind car seat man to think he’d done something terribly wrong (apart from smoother me in garlic fumes) but the truth had smacked me in the face as I realised my baby was ‘growing up’ and there was nothing I could do about it. She was no longer little. I’d dealt with the other things up until now but this was public confirmation that before long she’d be a real life walking talking little girl. I cried all the way home until the OH threatened to call my Mother.
When I woke up on Sunday morning and Darcie gave me her wide eyed grin I spotted it. Sitting there. Mocking me. After the car seat mental breakdown yet another reminder that time was flying. Sitting right there in her pink little gums...... a gleaming white peg of a tooth.
Mother Nature really is a cow sometimes, she could've at least made it a month between baby growing events.
