It won’t be.
Of course she’s changed and grown and developed and learnt loads of stuff. She does that constantly and amazes me every day. At eighteen months she’s learning faster than ever before and is even funnier than ever before.
She’s also hard work. In a way she never has been before. Iris has always been reliably portable. I take her everywhere and she loves it. Only lately she doesn’t want to put her shoes on or put her coat on or get on the bus or do anything I need her to do. Everything is a battle. Her first few tantrums have appeared and the timing is awful. I’m too tired. I’m handling them the way I planned to so far. I’m calm and rational and I try to talk to her about what she’s feeling. It’s tricky to stay patient but so far I’m doing it. I won’t ever ignore her or leave her or put her on time out. I don’t believe in that stuff. However I can see myself losing patience and not staying calm, so I’m having to work on that.
She’s a doer. She doesn’t watch. She doesn’t sit still and observe. She’s busy. She never stops.
I’m feeling guilty because I can’t keep up. I feel bad because we aren’t outdoors. We aren’t tearing around the park anymore. We haven’t been to playgroup much. Home has become the place to spend our days and she is as frustrated as me.
We’ve been poorly. Just the usual winter bugs, but one after another. Just another reason to stay at home. Life has slowed to a snail’s pace and it doesn’t suit her or me.
The new words come thick and fast. Animal sounds, body parts, foods. The names of favourite people. Please and thank you. She knows there’s a baby in my tummy. She tells me several times a day. She calls her daddy sweetly from the other side of the house because she knows it melts his heart.
She loves to throw a ball, to dance, to run. She just loves to move.
She adores animals. She quite likes people too. She’s affectionate and gives kisses and cuddles freely to those that she loves.
She’s mesmerised by all the Christmas things, the lights and baubles and children singing carols on the high street.
She knows her own mind and knows what she wants. She doesn’t give up until she gets the outcome she was looking for.
She has at least 12 teeth. Probably more. It’s hard to have a look without getting bitten.
She often asks for cake. She gets that from me.
Her hair has suddenly started growing rapidly but I still can’t decide what colour it is.
She tells me when her nappy needs changing and asks to use the potty, which she likes to sit on but hasn’t actually done anything on yet. I’m so not ready for this.
She’s amazing. A tiny miniture female version of Trevor. A loud, strong willed, busy, impatient toddler.
She’s still obsessed with yellow welly boots.
I’m terrified of the impact a baby sister will have on her life. I hope it isn’t too hard for her. I keep telling her she’s my baby too. She always will be.
She made me a mother.