I have been pretty quiet on the socials because we are in the process of moving. Our move-in date was a week before Christmas. Yes I know bloody nightmare! It was stressful and cemented my hate for moving but it had to be done because we need more space. Still working on the dream house but I am excited to be moving back to South West London, closer to our family. We are now slap bang in the middle of the grandparents and have cousins around the corner.
Ayanna and Azaria are making me work for the title of being their mother. We are at the wailing for everything stage, which works my nerves. To the point I have just sat and watched them pulling stuff out of draws because I am sick of hearing my own voice. I think they’re also tired of hearing me because they tune me out so efficiently. Rude I know.
I mentally have to prepare for soft play because it’s a work out. I end up running around after them in two different directions. It’s exhausting.
They are both trying to walk (still not totally steady on their feet yet but getting there). It’s intense to say the least. I have found myself already looking at baby pictures of when they just used to sit there and a bottle would make them sleep. The bedtime bottle for some strange reason gives my girls a boost of energy, Ayanna has stood up and started dancing to lullaby music instead of relaxing. It was cute but wrong time, totally cutting into my trash TV time with a glass of wine.
It’s not all bad I promise. I am getting random cuddles and kisses and baby talk mixed with a few words. But I have extremely frustrating days. I have needed to put myself on a time out and count to three. It just cements my feeling that I don’t want any more children. Is that bad to say?! Well I don’t care, maybe it will change. Looking back at the photos reminds me of how far we have come but my girls are not even two yet and I look at them like what happened to my babies?!