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Cry Baby

Cry Baby

This Hannibal Lector face mask better work. I bought it in Boots because it said anti-fatigue on the packet. In fact I bought 10 products that promised to make me look less tired. And Im so tired I cant even tell you what they are now. So I’m hoping the next 15 minutes will undo the last 12 weeks of sleepless nights. I caught my reflection in the mirror yesterday and even on my worst hungover days, I had never seen the shade of purple that currently sits in my under eye bags.

Ellie is 12 weeks old today. I am still pinching myself that she is actually here. Sometimes I look at her and I draw a complete blank as to what her name is. Like, Ive forgotten what I actually called her. Can you believe that? Mostly I think it’s because I spend my days cooing at her like a pigeon and not actually talking to her, just staring and cooing, hoping against hope she will give me a smile. When she does, I mostly cry. But I cry at practically everything these days. When himself doesn’t put the bin out, when I run out of milk, when I cant find my phone charger, The best yet, folding and putting away the new born baby clothes that don’t fit her anymore and bawling about the fact that she will soon be off to college. Don’t laugh, I was inconsolable. I think my hormones are finally levelling out though and Im hoping I go back to normal regular crying like when Ive drank too much white wine listening to Stevie Nicks.

 

Anyway, where was I, oh yes, feeling overwhelmed by my daughter, how she catches me off guard and stuns me by how unbelievably gorgeous she is. Im overwhelmed that I am only 1 of 2 human beings walking this earth who is responsible for her. Even typing this Im crying again. It blows me away that she stops crying when somebody else hands her to me. That she settles and looks up at me contently with her huge blue saucer eyes, as she breast feeds. Needing me. The responsibility when you become a first time parent is frightening. Like, Ive always been that person who loses things. Wallets, handbags, phones, keys. It’s been the running joke of my friends and family for years. And all of a sudden your charged with minding the most important thing on the planet. Taking her home for the first time, we left the Coombe at 9pm, under the cover of darkness and I felt like I was stealing her from somebody else. I remember looking out the window of the car on the drive home, as I sat with her in the back seat, (crying again of course) wondering what the hell we were going to do. Then getting her into the house and looking at her in her car seat on the kitchen table, telling her this was her new home. She was so teeny tiny. And we were so nervous and excited and proud and tired and emotional and full of hope and fear. But more than all of that full of love like I have never experienced before. I have never loved anyone or anything as fiercely. When she crys, I feel that love even more. I want to protect her and mind her and love her and help her and travel with her and dance with her and have adventures and be there for her when she needs me and even when she doesn’t need me. I want to make her proud so I better stop crying sometime soon. Anyway, result this Face mask is magic. Nothing like a bit of lips and a bouncy blow dry to give you a new lease of life.