10 Months

The Poop is ten months old today. Ten months old.

TEN MONTHS OLD. 

You know what that means, don't you?

It means she is two months away from being...

O-N-E Y-E-A-R O-L-D.

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!

We are soon to be the proud owners of a one year old child. That's right. Child. Not baby. Child.

HA! UTTER MADNESS.

It's a good thing, I suppose. 

I have no desperate hankering to return to sleepless nights. I am more than happy to have kissed goodbye to my leaky nipples (figuratively speaking), I can honestly say I have no desire to sterilise another bottle, nor do I long to change just one more of those explosive newborn nappies. And I don't ever find myself wishing I still carried my traumatised lady parts round in a carrier bag.

But I will miss having a 'baby'. I will miss The Poop being the newest baby people know. I will miss her being the newest baby I know. I will miss the congratulations, the cooing and the gift vouchers. I will miss looking on parenting websites and selecting the 'baby' tab. I will miss moaning about labour (it gets old after a year apparently). I will miss having an excuse for being overweight, being able to put her down and still find her when I turn around, and being able to fit every item of clothing she owns, plus her bedding, in one wash.

I will miss her miniature fingernails, tiny cuddles and her wanting me to be there all the time.

*sighs*

But.

There will soon be tiny little legs walking around our house. There will be paintings on the fridge, diddy wellies outside the back door and minature poos in the loo. There will be plastic bikes on the drive. Rollerskates on the stairs. Naked, headless Barbies in the bath. 

She'll have a school uniform to change out of. A tipped up bedroom to tidy. "Loads" of homework to do. Dancing exams to practise for. Christmas cards to make. Trouble to try and talk her way out of and ear piercings to beg for.

But even when she definitely doesn't want me to be around because I'm ruining her cred; even when she is the one giving me lifts in her car; even when she's not even Miss Briars anymore; in my heart, my mind and in my forever, she'll still be the baby I see right now.

Our tiny, treasured Poop.