Gushing mammy alert… Today the little dude walked from the kitchen to the hall door off his own baby bat, unaided, all by himself. He’s been walking with his walker for what has seemed like months and in the last week he’s been letting go and doing a few solo steps, but today he went for it with gusto!
Yes, at last we’ve got a walker!!!
I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to yell that, being a complete zombie movie and TV aficionado!
All joking aside, I am genuinely taken aback by how proud I am of my little dude! I never imagined I’d feel so happy about it. I literally want to open the door and shout to the entire neighbourhood ‘you see that little smasher there? Yes the ones who’s walking? That’s MY son!!’
It’s like I cannot wipe the smile off my face. Honestly. I’m like the joker going around with a permanent grin on my mush all day.
Someone cut me off in traffic? Still smiling.
Dropped a bag of shopping on my foot? Still smiling.
Husband phones me to say he’s going to be working late again and it’s me on bath and bed solo duty yet again? Still smiling.
Little dude goes from walking to then screaming in my ear? Still smiling.
It’s like I’ve taken happy pills. It’s the strangest feeling of pure joy, I just cannot get over. Because I’m not exactly what you’d call a gushy or a natural mum… if anything I’m more on the cynical side of the parenting spectrum. Indeed I’ve blogged before about how difficult I found the transition to becoming a mum and felt a complete loss of identity in the process, but today I had to sit down and genuinely wipe a happy tear out of my eye.
I mean there have been other milestones. The first tooth. Crawling. Holding the sippy cup by himself. And a million and one other little things I’ve had the privilege of being there for. But this? This outshines all of them.
And the funny thing is that, I can see my old self looking at me now and cringing at my OTT mammy pride. You see motherhood has changed me so much. It’s rewired my brain. Because pre-kid me would have been about as interested in this as watching paint dry. I mean I can remember sitting there and watching as my family and friends GUSHED over the moments when their kids took their first steps, showing me the videos on repeat about 50 times, or relaying the story in MINUTE detail until I thought my head would explode.
Yes. Wonderful. Great, etc, etc, I would have chimed in. It’s not hat I wasn’t excited for them, it’s just that I didn’t get it.
But now? Now I get it.
It’s like he’s just been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize or scored the winning try or goal in the World Cup or something, the way I’m going on, but I cannot keep a lid on my delight.
Jesus, what will I be like as he grows up?
I really will be one of THOSE embarrassing mums who gushes at everything he does!
But as much as I want to say 'and so it begins,' in ominous my Gandalf LOTR voice, or lament over how much trouble I'm in for now that he's walking; instead I sit here and write while he naps from all his AMAZING walking, re-watching the video I took of him earlier like an ejit and I resign myself to the fact that I'm completely besotted. As much as I might like to deny it, or pretend I am still the old me. The tough cookie. The cynic. The un-gushy Niamh who wasn't into kids.
I'm not. Because, he’s got me.
Hook. Line and Sinker.