Every morning is now a battle. It starts the second I lay my wildling 9 month old baby boy down on the changing mat. The instant his body makes contact, he flips over and the epic struggle begins. I flip him back over at try to start undoing the poppers on his onesie, but with lightening quick speed, he’s flipped back over and in my head battle music begins… think ‘Mars The Bringer of War’ mashed up with the theme tune to Game of Thrones and you’ve got it!
I’m, the adult here, I say to myself sometimes out loud! I should be easily able to turn him over and keep him there while I quickly change his nappy.
But no. In the time it’s taken me to utter those words, he’s flipped back over again. He’s like some kind of stealthy ninja who is a grand master at doing the worlds quickest 180 or what I like to call the corkscrew manoeuvre. Like a slimy octopus, he somehow eludes my clutches no matter where I decide to hold him, even by both of his legs! He’s got this incredible strength for a baby and he even sometimes manages to defy gravity. It’s as if he is up in the air almost leaning back only on his head in some weird yoga pose and then proceeds to turn his body while his feet slip out of my hands and hey presto, he is proudly on his tummy again. Of course the poop goes everywhere, on his legs, tummy, clothes and feet as I admit defeat yet again. And he’s delighted with his baby self. On his tummy banging his hands on the mat and reaching for everything in his field of vision so he can either – a - bang the living shit out of it, b – put it in his mouth, or c- hurl it as far as he can.
Baby - 1
Mammy – 0
I lose yet again!
And did I mention the accompanying nappy time meltdowns? Yup, he is literally flipping out in every way possible and I feel like we’re acting out a scene from WWE smackdown several times a day. It’s as if me turning him onto his back to change his nappy is like the ultimate insult; it’s as if it’s the biggest injustice he’s had to endure in his whole 9 month life and so the screaming and protesting starts up. He goes red in the face and roars at me trying to get him on his back. I’ve tried distracting him with singing, toys, food and even my keys which are normally the ultimate attention grabber, but each fail to get him to lie still for even a few seconds. And predictably it’s worse when he’s tired or hungry… which for some reason always seems to coincide with nappy changing time too! By the time we’ve changed the nappy we’re both fit for bed!
I remember when nappy changes used to be a breeze. I’d lay him down and he’d squirm a little but the whole thing was easy as pie. I had time to reach for the wipes with both hands! If I’d forgotten the sudocrem, it was an easy few steps over to get it and when I stepped back, he was still there dutifully waiting to be changed.
Oh dear God how I wish for those days again! And if he’s this wilful now at 9 months, then what the hell are the terrible twos or the ‘threenager’ years going to be like!?
Still though, it got me thinking about how every new phrase has its challenges. I look back on the early days when he was a newborn with rose tinted glasses now. Yes lots of things were easier… I mean he really only ate, slept and cried, which looking back seem like a dream now. But in reality that time also presented its own daily trials. I guess nothing with small kids is easy, but as hard as things can be at times, my little dude just has to flash that smile and laugh and he wins… it’s the ultimate get out of jail card and even at this small age he knows how to play it to the max!