Gargh. The end of my maternity leave ticks ever closer and the last couple of weeks have been a sort of melting pot of logistical problems, stress, gloom and domestic faffage that I can’t even be bothered to describe. But, for the sake of Little Ms Hubble, I ought to jot down a few updates before it all slips through my fingers…
Right now she’s just turned 9 months and is a very cute little dumpling indeed.
She’s got two teeth so far and, unlike her brother, is proving to be a very good little eater. Especially if the food on offer happens to be carnivorous, biscuit-shaped or coming out of an Ella’s pouch.
Alas, this also means that she’s a good little vomiter. I swear our residence must reek to high heaven of baby vomit. Not to mention our clothes. 1001 carpet shampoo is my new best friend. I think I might try cutting out cheese to see if it helps.
To my relief, she’s been showing all the signs of being an inert and lazy moo when it comes to the physical stuff – a good 6 weeks behind her brother at that age – which means that I can still get away with plonking her on a mat amid a pile of toys, rather than getting the panopticon of doom out of the loft.
However, this week, she’s finally worked out how to crawl forwards, albeit at a snail’s pace. So I expect we’ll have to put up the stair gates. Feh.
As for that ticking clock, I’m afraid my little mummy’s girl is going to be trouble when it comes to nursery. So far, every attempt to leave her with someone other than me has resulted in her screaming at them until she fell asleep. Groan. And lets not mention the fact that her nursery place doesn’t even have a guaranteed start date yet to match my return to work (argh!)
On that cheery note, I shall go away because it’s almost time to collect the Microbe from school. Toodle Pip, etc.
(NB: I will be back later to ramble on about Enid Blyton).