Another busy week. Mr Jones turned 30. Rufus graduated into size two nappies and out of his newborn clothes.
We've learnt a lot. Mr Jones learnt that hangovers and babies do not, under any circumstances, mix. I've learnt that I don't like anyone else to look after Rufus and that I can't bear to be separated from him for any extended length of time.
Call me clingy. call me possessive but I just don't like handing him over. Maybe it's because I spent nine horrible months making him and vomiting all the while - or maybe it's just normal? But everytime I hand him to someone else I worry that they're going to damage him - and if they do I'd never forgive them, so in my mind it's just simpler to keep him all to myself. (Hear the Daily Mail readers tutting and the feminists of the world bewailing the introduction of another pampered Mummy's boy!)
I've also learnt that being a mother brings with it a hefty dose of guilt. I constantly feel guilty. Guilty that I can't comfort him when he cries sometimes. Guilty that I haven't quite got enough to milk to satisfy his hunger somedays. Guilty that I don't want to let anyone else have him. Guilty that I catch him with a nail. Guilty that I've given him a dummy. Guilty that he has to go in his car seat. Guilty that the poor cats are supremely neglected (bless them). Guilty that all I want to eat is sweet stuff and carbs and not fruit and veg (although frankly I blame him for that because it's clearly down to lack of sleep and a need for instant energy to get me through the day) and guilty that I might not be doing everything right.
Rufus has learnt that his legs are attached to his body and that he can kick them, he's learnt to giggle a bit and to suck his fingers (bring on the thumb sucking so I can get rid of the dummy and won't have to keep getting up to put it back in when he's trying to settle himself to sleep). He's also worked out how to have the most disturbing tantrums and turn his face purple for what seems like absolutely no reason - they're always when he's got a clean nappy, a full tummy and has been burped and cuddled. Most odd - hopefully he'll get over it soon.
He's also still gorgeous and we took so many pictures of him I couldn't choose just four. He's growing up fast and is starting to look like a proper little boy.
Mrs Jones is a far from yummy mummy with a penchant for M&S fudge bars and a mojito on a Friday night. She became Mrs Jones in 2009 and a mummy in 2010. In 2011 she is attempting to remember her own name and not put washing powder in the dishwasher....