Walking is overratedPosted: June 9, 2012
My friend recently told me that she had wondered how my life had changed since my daughter had started walking.
I don’t suppose that you really notice as you just career from one change to the next, blindly. But I guess the change from ‘not’ to walking is pretty big.
I remember the days when I could place the baby on her gym mat and make a quick cup of tea. The only thing I would find on my return was that she’d spewed up a whole feed thanks to her vile reflux. But she was always in the same spot. Easy peasy.
She’s been walking, nay running, for a few weeks now. She was a bit slow on the uptake, her best friend (as dictated by us, their parents) had been walking for months due to a dislike of crawling. Camille was pretty slow to start. But once she got going, boy did she? She does fall over an awful lot. Enough to make me hesitant to take her to the health visitor weigh-in. How do you explain the bruised knees?! (Funnily enough though, all the parents I have chatted to say the same. Toddler falls on their head? Brush the fringe over). It’s all normal and natural but you feel SO self-conscious.
Anyway. Life has changed immeasurably. Nappy changes are a fight. “Think I’m lying down Mummy? NO WAY!”. It’s just running the gauntlet between getting the nappy on and having poo all over the hall carpet (this has happened, but gladly it was a solid one. She’ll thank me for that comment in 18 years!).
It used to be the case that she went in her buggy and we went to the shops, in the order that I had planned, had a chat to people, wandered around and went home. All very lovely. Well, now, it’s a different experience entirely. She is on
a leash baby reins and I find myself dragged all over the place. Our friend has just opened a great new coffee place and my daughter, having known him for her whole 15 month life (and during pregnancy when I would swig decaf flat whites like they were coming into fashion), will happily climb through the front door and wave, even if I was only going to the greengrocer. She will run around the park in the opposite direction that I want her to due to dog poo/tramps/unsavouries etc.
One thing that threw me was when I allowed her to walk along our street towards the house. She got to the end of our drive and turned right, she started walking up it. With me a good four feet behind her. I couldn’t believe it, she knew where she lived!
Walking means that she can get her hands on more stuff. Even if you think you are ‘baby-proof’. I walked into the bathroom the other day to find a sock in the bath. It took me a minute but then I remembered. The sock was nothing, really. We’ve had CDs and jigsaws down the loo, my iPhone in the bath, she has run up the hallway with my pointy tweezers in her hand. Pretending to brush her hair, rubbing the end of my lip balm on her face. The cat biscuits went in the washing machine. The cat had a bag of crisps (cheese flavour) in his bowl. My £65 bottle of Hermes perfume, bought in Milan, was smashed on the bathroom tiles. (This really upset me as I bought it on one of my final trips prior to maternity leave, when I had freedom and was paid to travel overseas for *ahem* work). God only knows where the TV remote controls end up.
As I said, it was easier when you could just lay her down and wander off. To the shops. (Just kidding)
People often ask, in the battle of men versus women, who wears the trousers in their relationship. Well, in our house, it’s a woman. But the trousers are 12-18 month size.