And he said I love you

Tonight I fell in love again.

The Little Mister, for some reason, made a fuss about being in his cot. Everyone was tired, so, as a treat, Tony put him in the middle of our bed. He was quiet. I lay down next to him and he turned to me. He stroked the hair around my face. With the truly-baby-soft skin on his fingers, he stroked the side of my face in the same way that I stroke his.

Then, silently, he looked up at me and smiled. In the night-time half-light, I saw his happy, tired eyes, and his two bottom teeth. I fell in love with him again. At that moment, he was so grown up. He was a son comforting his tired mother. He was a child who cannot yet talk saying I love you. At that moment, there was nothing else but us.

 

A world away from a baby

A few video clips, each under a minute long, tonight reminded me of the Little Mister’s first week. I found them on mum’s laptop. I’d forgotten how tiny he was. I’d forgotten how he didn’t talk, or move much. And how his face was so puffy, but how his eyes were still moving, knowingly taking in the new world around him.

Milin is fourteen months old. He is a toddler and already a world away from a baby. Each day, I am stunned by how quickly he is growing up. Each day, he surprises me with how much he understands of what I tell him.

And Milin can also make himself understood too. He still loves pointing. His much-used pointing finger is thrust in the direction a hundred times a day of things he wants to show me. Usually it is a bus, or a bird braving winter, or something that looks like it isn’t a toy but could be fun. Most exciting of all though is pointing at a dog in the park or on the street, and Milin seems to live in eternal hope that the dog will come and play.

He knows where his toes are, where his nose is – and he can point mine out too. He can walk across the room, although he would rather crawl because it is faster and easier. He understands almost everything I tell him. If he is tired and I ask him if he wants to sleep, he lies face down on the floor to show me it’s time to get into his cot. He LOVES going outside more than anything. He loves making us laugh. He loves watching sport and claps his hand together as soon as it comes on the tele. He dances and sings as soon as music is turned on.

Only 14 months ago, this little boy was just a couple of days old. He has, of course, changed everything in that time. But many things are the same too. That we love him completely, and will do more so each day, I know will never change.

Little Mister 14 months

Little Mister 14 months

Adaptation

LIFE has changed completely, and I wonder whether the Little Mister remembers how things were a month ago. We were in Wellington, it was summer, he played outside in the sun all the time, and our little household of three was generally quiet and calm.

We have lived in our new home in London now for three weeks. Milin loves it. I am still amazed by how quickly he settled in. A new routine, a new house, a new season, a new family around him – he hasn’t taken long to accept it and embrace it. Well, apart from the cold, Milin’s not so keen on that.

How is it that a little boy who is 13 months old can adapt so fast and make such a major transition so smoothly? Of course, to him, moving across the globe brings no worries of the practical things in life. He knows he is loved and safe; his mummy and daddy are still beside him, and everyday is filled with fun and laughter – perhaps it doesn’t matter what continent he is in.

Since we left Wellington, my Little Mister seems to have grown up so much. He still doesn’t want to eat, but he now spends his days practicing how to walk and talk. Suddenly, he is a little boy. Soon, I will have to call my baby a toddler.

With his arms waving beside him for balance, with his toes hip-width apart and his feet flat on their soles, he is taking his first steps. They are slow, purposeful, and usually in my direction. He claps at his achievement when he reaches me. His smile takes over his whole face. He is SO HAPPY he can walk.

All around him, we clap too. All the time. Because Milin is constantly doing things which make us laugh. He knows the radiators are hot. He won’t touch them but he points them out to us and blows out as if trying to cool down hot food. He does the same when he watches us drink cups of tea. The entire household thinks he is the cleverest boy in the world.

Milin knows not to touch the fireplace, the plugs, the compost bin. Again, he points them out to us. This time he shakes his head. No, he is telling us. How can we not admire his communication skills?

And all day, he talks. “Daddy” is his favourite, most-used word. It is not used sparingly, and everyone is Daddy. Sometimes things are Da. Sometimes he says Ta when given a toy or a biscuit. But mostly, it’s Daddy.

Our Little Mister is growing up in a new world. He has a new park with a slide he can climb up and a new library where there is a creative room with paint and a toy room with cars. He has been on a tube and looked at the Thames. He has seen the snow and didn’t like touching it. He is nearly a toddler.

 

Life as he hasn’t known it

OUR new life in London has begun. The Little Mister is, so far, unimpressed by the cold and snow, but otherwise delighted with the turn of events in this big adventure that is his life.

We have of course had hiccups along the way. Thailand was hot, and Milin was very jetlagged after a horror daytime flight. We were there a week, and then, the big one – London. A pro by the time we got on that plane though, Milin slept for most of the journey. Phew.

It took us an hour to leave the gridlocked car park at Heathrow. What a welcome. My little superstar hardly complained. His daytime routine was quick to sort out, and now, over a week later, we’re hoping we’ve cracked nights – but we’re not celebrating that milestone just yet.

What the week has really been about though has been visitors, and the Little Mister has coped wonderfully. Only initially unsure for a short time, he has realised that attention is a wonderful thing. Smile, and the adults smile back. Watch the bigger kids, the cousins, and learn. He is fascinated. Already, he is getting better at being with other babes. Relief.

We showed him the snow today. There was no sledding or snowman building as he wouldn’t touch it – too cold. But from within the house, he was transfixed. He pointed at flakes, his eyes opened wide, and he told us ooh, aah, while watching the white stuff fall to the ground.

Indoors, the Little Mister can stand alone without leaning on anyone. If he feels like it, he will take a few slow steps.  I can’t wait for him to walk now, I feel like it will help him enjoy being outdoors a bit more. Funny the difference a season can make. He wanted to spend every second of summer outdoors. Now, in England, he has already learnt it is just too cold out there. He’s smart, this little one.

 

Saying our goodbyes

Sometimes when you say bye, the Little Mister waves. Sometimes he doesn’t. He’s getting lots of opportunities to do it this week. We have started saying goodbye to our friends and the Little Mister’s friends and playmates.

He has only known them for a year. They’re just getting to take notice of each other. Although only to take toys off each other. It’s still not quite playing together. Through Milin I’ve met some other wonderful mummies and become closer to people I already knew. He’s just starting to get to know Wellington, the city he was born in, and we are saying goodbye.

It is less than a week until we go. We said goodbye to some very good friends on Saturday. Over a drink and some snacks, while the babies played with cars and trucks at our feet, we looked back, looked forward, and I tried not to cry. It’s hit me this week. I’m leaving a life I love, I’ve already left a job I loved, and we are parting ways with too many people.

It’s too late, Tony said, to change your mind. There were boxes all around us and I still had packing tape in the hand I didn’t use to wipe away the tears.

Of course, you can’t have everything, and this has been my choice. It’s ok, I think, to be sad for what we’ll leave – while at the same time being excited for all that will be new.

On Saturday, the wind howled around us as we walked to our leaving party. It made me feel better about going. But on Sunday, Wellington turned on it’s sunniest most beautiful charm. Under a bright blue sky, the Little Mister squealed when I put his toes in the icy water of the South Coast. He might grow up like his father and rarely swim in the sea, but I hope not.

We took him to the aquarium where he got his fingers in the water and played with the seaweed after pointing at the big fish and octopus. We said goodbye to our antenatal group – our first baby club – our group who got to know each other so well because we were all sleep deprived at some point and getting desperate for tips, advice, anything that might work. Tomorrow, more goodbyes. More friends the Little Mister and I have in common.

We will wipe away tears though for this windy city, and very soon, as long as the snow clears and we can land, we will say hello.

Adventures, adventures, adventures

WHEN I think back over the last few months and comb through the memories, I can’t put my finger on when it happened. When, my Little Mister, did you become such an independent adventurer?

We have had two little trips away recently and both have made me realise how grown up you are. And that you love exploring . A lot. You, my Little Mister, must be on the move at all times. Unless you are very tired from all the moving about. You aren’t walking yet, but you are pushing around everything you can find that goes. Being outside is also a million times better than being inside. Getting your hands into mucky stuff like cobwebs and dirt and oily car wheels doesn’t bother you at all.

Up north, you loved your grandfather’s dogs. You exhausted them and had no fear. Down south at a wedding, you amazed everyone at how fast you could go, accelerating and then suddenly being nowhere to be found. Where has the baby gone, they would say? I always saw.

You always have your eyes on the next adventure. Usually, you don’t mind if I’m there or not. You can figure out all these games by yourself and, in fact, that’s the way you prefer. I’m glad you’re so brave, and so inquisitive. Your life, Little Mister, is a million miles an hour right now, just in case you miss anything out. It’s so much fun for us grown ups around you – but sometimes we struggle to keep up!

It’s been a special summer. You have two top teeth, and you didn’t complain about them at all. You met your great-grandmother, and you loved her. You discovered garlic bread and it kept you quiet and still in a high chair. You learnt the meaning of some new words – ‘rain’ was your least favourite because it meant staying indoors. But best of all, you showed me that you just want to have adventure after adventure after adventure. And I reckon that’s great.