Ouch. My back.


Ouch.

Tried to pick Millie up yesterday morning and something at the bottom of my back went pop!

So for the last couple of days I’ve been creeping about the house like the ghost of some shuffling pensioner who died here. Actually, even that’s not strictly true – yesterday I spent most of the day lying very still in bed, getting up only to get a cup of tea and the biscuit tin, and to have a soothing hot bath (which was very soothing, thank goodness).

The worst thing about the whole episode?  The Lovely Melanie was very tired that morning so I’d gracefully offered to look after Millie, saying to Mel, “You stay in bed and have a lie-in, love, I’ll sort the Millays out.”

Which I did – for about 11 minutes – until forced to squeal from the other end of the house for her to come and grab MIllie while I lay on the floor trying not to writhe about too much.

And that, unfortunately, was the end of the Lovely Melanie’s Sunday lie-in.

It was a shame because we’d had a lovely weekend up until that point.

My brother and his fiancée were supposed to be coming up from Swindon for the day to meet us at Tate Britain, but obviously that didn’t happen.

We’d had some old friends to stay on Friday night, with their little boy who’s 10 months younger than Millie (so, adjusting for Millie’s early arrival, that makes him only seven months younger, really).

It was quite strange to see our two children next to each other, because young Oscar’s a lovely little chap – he’s about the same size as Millie, same height, although a bit chunkier.

And that, somewhat bizarrely, is where the resemblance ended, because Oscar still can’t quite crawl yet, he certainly can’t stand or walk, and although he’s got a couple of words in his vocabulary he doesn’t communicate in the way that Millie does.  That extra seven or ten months makes a massive difference development-wise.

And yet…they looked so similar!

We really got a sense of how small Millie still is for her age.

I kept expecting Oscar to get up, point at the door and totter off towards the hallway.   Conversely, Sarah (Oscar’s mum) kept saying, ‘Oh, my god, look at her standing up/walking/carrying a huge teddy bear.’

After the kids went to bed we stayed up (obviously, it was only 7pm!) and chatted about children and parenting and stuff.

And mortgages, of course; all of us being card-carrying middle-class, mid-thirties, homeowners.

The Lovely Melanie and I don’t get to talk about parenting and children all that often, certainly not with people in the same position as ourselves.  We’re something of an anomaly in our social circle, having had a baby, and of our friends, a minority refuse point-blank to hear a word said about children in their presence, most are more or less interested to hear how Millie’s getting along, and some actually like to come over and make a fuss of her – all of which are fine with me (I don’t want to become a parental obsessive with no other conversation in my repertoire).

But it’s always nice to talk to people in the same boat as yourself: to swap funny stories, tips and experience.  Which is what we did. 🙂

And our conclusions?  All kids are different, and all of them are great, almost all of the time.

Oh, and by the way, MIllie’s exactly 18 months old tomorrow.  Hurrah!

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