I think I’m slowly getting used to looking at boy things. And I’m trying to prepare myself for all that newborn crying. Arddun had heard a 3-month-old baby girl wailing today after she’d woken up from her nap, and that had turned into a teaching moment about how babies cry because that’s how they talk. Because they don’t have words yet. Crying doesn’t always mean something is very, very wrong.
A good reminder for myself, seeing how it’s been a long while since I’ve had to personally deal with the full-throttle fury of a hungry newborn who will not wait. It’s always distressing to hear a baby cry… but it’s also very natural for them to do so.
The other thing I’m trying to get used to again is the tinyness. Tiny baby clothes that can almost fit Arddun’s potty-training doll. Tiny shoes. Tiny hats. Tiny sunglasses. My gosh-aww moment yesterday was when I opened a pack of newborn nappies and realised how tiny they were next to Arddun’s most recent size.
Can’t believe we’re going to do it all over again. The prospect both delights and terrifies.
Finding The Happy 