Wednesday evening; the girls were pottering around after supper, engaging every delaying tactic known to man to eek out a little more play time in the sunshine before bath and bed called, H was trying to accommodate being a climbing frame for both of them, and I was scooping Pip up off the floor with one hand and trying to clear the supper things with the other. And from the corner of my eye I saw my phone flash to life as a Twitter notification came through:
— Clarina85 (@Clarina85) June 3, 2015
I looked at it, and stared and suddenly my brain started to work very very slowly, in a sort of cogs audibly clunking kind of a way:
“Why has Claire tagged me on this …hang on a minute….does that mean?…really…what!…..What!….hang on. Am I a MADs finalist?!…….WHAT!!!”
Cue several seconds of flurried swiping and prodding at the phone to find the answer. And there it was, written up large for all to see. There on the list of MADs Finalists for the Baby category it says Space for the Butterflies.
I’m still not sure it’s really sunk in yet.
I asked you for your help and your nominations because I had a longing hope that one day enough people might enjoy my little tales of family life, the sweet pictures and the utterly bonkers pictures, that I might get a nomination, but with a lot more hope than any expectation. To have made it to the finals, to be in the last six in my category when over 5,000 blogs were nominated is truly truly wonderful and for each and every one of you who nominated me, thank you thank you thank you.
This blog is my children’s baby book (because I’m terrible at keeping a hardback one up to date) and my record of my journey through motherhood, with all the highs and lows along the way, and in the last nine months I’ve recorded Pip’s milestones and his everyday, and our story of life as we changed from a four to a five.
There was his birth story, one of my favourite of all the newborn photoshoots I did with him at Three Weeks of a Little Pip and the precious photos recording The First Smiles. I’ve written about The End of the Fourth Trimester, knitted him his first Christmas Jumper and more recently captured the milestones as he learned to roll and then to crawl. And I know that I will continue to write and take pictures and share the joy I find in all three of my children. I would do that regardless of awards or rankings or any sort of external recognition because I love it and it makes me happy. I write because I can’t not.
And if you take pleasure in it too, now I really need your help. The winner in the majority of the MADs categories is decided by popular vote. I know that I’m going to have an amazing time at the finals party in September and seeing so many friends and so many people that I hold in such high regard is going to make it an incredibly special evening,but I also know that it would also be the icing on the cake to actually win. If you’ve followed along since Pip was merely a Little Bump, if you’ve watched my Siblings duo turn into a trio, or the Me and Mine shots get increasingly crazy much to Pip’s increasingly evident confusion, if you enjoy my stories of the everyday ordinary, please would you vote for me.
It only takes seconds, the voting page is here and you’ll find Space for the Butterflies in the second drop down menu under Baby. You don’t need to be in the UK or a parent or anything else blogger, just be someone who wants to vote for me. You might just make my year. Voting closes on 16 June.
Thank you – you’re awesome!
I think it was Elma’s birthday or thereabouts. We sat at supper, the girls chatted away telling us about their day, H sat with Pip in his lap, trying to amuse him for those few precious seconds that would allow me to bolt my supper (a) while it was still hot and (b) using both hands and I duly scoffed away.
“He’s got a really strong bite, this one!” said my poor husband as Pip clamped down again on his father’s finger. Then a pause, a little;e exploratory look and,
“is this little white bit a spot? or.. or has he cut a tooth?”
A spot! a spot on my baby! Nope, not a spot, but what looked very much like the little tiny white corner of a very first tooth. Frankly i was a little bit in shock. Well Kitty got her first tooth at around 8 months and Elma hung on until 11 months; given Pip was 3 1/2 months you can see why we were’t expecting anything for a little while. And while I know that some babies teethe earlier than others, and some babies are even born with teeth, I promise you, no nursing mother really longs for their baby to be the one sporting a full set of pearly whites at six months.
But a tooth it very much appeared to be, and we watched and checked, and double checked and waited for this little cut of white to start turning into a proper tooth, and I started to look forward to smiles with that one little tooth. But nothing changed. When the girls started bringing in teeth they acquired quite a few relatively quickly and you could certainly see the difference week on week, but Pip’s little white spot stayed exactly that, the tiny corner of a tooth peeking through but deciding not to do any growing yet.
And then, one day, it wasn’t there any more. I know it was definitely there in December, and I’m certain that it wasn’t just a spot or a very stubborn bit of milk, but it seems to have vanished.
The only thing I can think of was that it was the top of a tooth that has yet to grow and is sitting happily in his gum awaiting a growth spurt a little further down the line and for some reason it showed itself for a few weeks and then young sir piled on a few more ounces of the gorgeous baby chub that gives him such very kissable cheeks, and that sort of fattened up his gums and it disappeared again.
All of which leaves me with two quandaries. Firstly, has anyone else’s baby had a moment of indecision on the teeth growing front? And more importantly, does this count as his first tooth in the not insignificant matter of the baby book?
Once upon a time there was a teeny tiny baby boy, and he wore teeny tiny babygros covered in boats and stripes and stars and dinosaurs and sheep. Not all at the same time.
But this teeny tiny baby, who was in fact not so teeny tiny after all, started to grow and grow and grow. At first his Mama bought him new babygros covered in the same boats and stripes and stars, and then she bought him even bigger babygros covered in penguins and polar bears and reindeer and a few more stripes and stars just for good measure. And he looked unbelievably cute and was incredibly cuddly and the Mama and the boy were very happy.
But although the Mama and the boy were very happy with the babygros, the Mama wondered whether the boy might like to try a little outfit, just to see whether anything could top the cuteness of a baby in a reindeer babygro, a little dressing up to welcome in the New Year. And he would.
And so on New Year’s Day, when a change demanded a full outfit change I pulled out Pip’s first ‘real’ clothes; soft cord trousies with a red and white lining, a cosy t-shirt with elbow patches, the most adorable little tank top, and a pair of stripy socks that Father Christmas had tucked into his stocking.
I defy anyone not to at least think “aww!”
I know it’s terribly super-special-snowflake-mummy to think that Pip is possibly the cutest little baby every to wear stripy socks, but look, look – he just looks so tiny and so grown up all at the same time; possibly because his jumper is a size too big and trying to gobble him up.
Pip’s wardrobe of babygros is partly a result of a bit of third child syndrome; with two little girls to get ready every day, I have neither the time nor the inclination to get a tiny floppy baby in and out of fiddly little clothes unless circumstances demand it, unlike when you have your first baby and dressing them up in really cute outfits is all part of the fun of learning to be a Mummy. But I don’t think he’s suffered for it either; he’s always been warm and snuggly and able to wriggle and kick to his heart’s content, and as he can now execute some very tidy circles around and around on the lounge floor and he’s starting to try to roll, kick and wriggle space is key.
I’m not planning a whole scale move over to little outfits at the moment either, I think we’re still going to be predominantly in babygros for however long size 6-9 months continues to fit.
Or at least that’s the plan. But then he wore his new little outfit on New Year’s Day, and then on Friday when the babygro basket was empty because the laundry was still sat in my room waiting to be sorted I reached for a little long sleeved vest and dungarees handed down from his cousin, and as I write this he’s lying on his playmat next to me giggling at a balloon and he seems to be wearing the little trousers and t-shirt with a fluffy bear on that our neighbours gave him for Christmas.
Cord trousers and a little wooly tank top; it’s the thin end of the wedge.