By now the baby can smile. Tear paper. And even enjoy a first taste of goose for any mother brave enough to watch huge chunks of it disappear into baby’s mouth (said mouth usually clamped shut for any other type of food).
“What are you doing for Christmas this year?”, asked co-parent daddy casually. But of course there’s nothing casual about it as various parties clamour to experience our daughter’s first Christmas. How to fit it all in…??
At six months old we reckoned on her ‘not knowing what is going on’ and minimal presents but as it happens our little one is quite advanced for her months and very much with it. She’s grown into a friendly little thing with no sign as yet of stranger danger or wanting to be held always by her mummies. So with this in mind there is daddies, a smattering of grandparents and various besotted friends to squeeze in.
The festive season kicked off with a pre-Christmas meal chez daddies. What was going to be a casual lunch soon became 10 people seated round a dinner table upon which our daughter babbled and dazzled her guests, clearly in her element.
We counted seats around my parents’ dinner table and were about to extend an invite to the daddies’ when they remembered a plus one step-mum that pushed numbers over the edge. We settled on Christmas Eve at the dads’, Christmas Day at my mum’s, followed by visits to friends in our leaking, creaking, ear-splitting, baby unsafe VW camper van (baby loves it - it’s like extreme white noise).
It goes without saying that her biggest and bestest present by far was from her daddies. A jumperoo-type contraption on wheels. It lives as their house and has the dual function of being a feeding chair. From her ever practical mamas she got a bath towel - by six months you’re pretty over the hanky-sized hooded baby towels - and a second-hand door bouncer. I’m not even joking we’re soooo stereotypical! My ever-pc brother was extremely proud of the tool set toy that his girlf had picked out and she’s already enjoyed hammering things.
As our whirlwind Christmas came to an end with the harsh hangover that is new year, I reflected on our incredible year that will always mark the birth of our daughter.
Gone are the mammoth breastfeeding sessions, sitting holding a sleeping babe whilst needing a wee because we don’t want her to wake up. Gone are the screams for food if I stray out of the house for ten minutes to long - the race up the stairs whilst peeling off clothes to get to my boob. I’ve thought of all the hours I’ve spent feeding, changing, bathing and in particular, rocking her…. What else could I have done with that time? Written a novel, developed a property, sorted my life out? Now I’m here I don’t regret a single moment. Our daughter is definitely my finest work.