Nuhnightstime

In the space of what feels like a minute, my baby girl has become a proper toddler. She answers my questions, she is able to tell me (in her own way) what she wants or doesn't want, and she also has the most insane temper tantrums and generally stomps about the house with a serious sense of purpose. Even if that purpose is to put my driving license out of the window in our (1st floor) living room, or to put her toys out of the cat flap. This afternoon she emptied nearly a whole box of cornflakes onto the freshly cleaned kitchen floor. Anyway: it's nice to feel less like having a child is just one big guessing game, and more like we might actually know what we are doing. Well, maybe for like 20seconds a day, but it's start!
When we first heard about 'attachment parenting' it was something that just felt right. It was never a conscious decision to parent in that way, it was more like it was what made sense to us. Of course I'm going to believe in my baby's cries, of course I'm going to breastfeed her, of course I'm going to do all the things that make her life best for her. My life now revolves around this little person that I chose to bring into this strange scary world and it is my job to help her learn what to do. I want to do everything I can to help her grow up confident, and to feel safe and loved. I want her to know that she can trust me and her Daddy, always and for any fucking thing she needs. Secure attachment for the win. Yes - it potentially means more sleepless nights, among other things, but heck I didn't have a baby so that I could carry on living my old life. We are already reaping what we have sown, when I watch her compared to other toddlers. For every criticism I am given about how badly she sleeps, and about how much breastmilk she still has, and how she is 'still' in our bedroom... people then turn around and go on about how wonderful she is. They say how much personality she has for somebody so small, how she seems to know exactly what she wants, what a happy bubba she is. Well for me that's the proof and pudding or however you say it, and every single thing we're aiming for in all this. Shortcuts now just mean the pudding might not rise to its full potential. (Ok I'm done with the baking metaphors, that was bad and I apologise!).
Anyway. I must make an effort at some point to write about something other than Pearl. How about this; I'm half watching Jamie Oliver embarrassing himself in New Orleans and it's allllmost as cringeworthy as watching Michael in new episode of The Office. Which was amazing by the way, but mostly because it's not actually real, whereas Jamie Oliver is really over in America making everybody think that all English people are wankers. He's a div.
The mac is burning my knee so I'ma finish this here. I'm going to go and kill my neighbours, who have decided that 9.30pm is the perfect time to pack up their house to move. Obnoxious fucking wankers. I can't wait till they move out, hopefully our new neighbours will decide to furnish their house with actual soft furnishings and not just minimalist wank so that we don't have to hear every single footstep and noise they make.
Fin.