Sunday, 4 December 2011

Daddy's Little Girl

I do love my daughter to bits, she is growing into a young woman and will be twelve on her next birthday - however she is and has always been hard work.
In fact, she probably started being hard work about the second trimester. I recall we went through a period of worry and several additional scans because she was measuring quite small and couldn’t be bothered growing at the right rate. Fortunately everything was ok, and she soon found another way to be difficult by being in the breach position and refusing to turn. I think this is where her stubbornness and natural gift for being awkward started!
At least we then had a planned C-Section date and were booked in with some certainty of when our bundle of joy would be delivered. I relaxed knowing we had plenty time to organise all that had to be done in time for her arrival.
Patience is not one of her virtues either (although I shouldn’t throw stones in that particular greenhouse!) and she decided she wanted to arrive three weeks early – sending my wife and myself into a mad panic at one morning. We were reasonably organised in that we had bought all the things an expectant mother needs for her maternity bag; however we had not unpacked or opened any of it. I nearly broke my toe while running round like an idiot in the dark pulling everything together as my wife sat on the loo with her waters breaking.
After she arrived, we were of course delighted and looked forward to many happy ours with our firstborn. Unfortunately she interpreted this as all waking hours and the ones through the night as well. We had no sleep for at least two years, I am not joking either. I still have flash-backs to her teething.
She also had reflux, and barely kept any milk down for longer than a few seconds before projectile vomiting everywhere, which was really handy with a cream carpet.
The terrible twos lasted another three years, and she could have represented our country at tantrums. Probably still could.
I finally appreciated my work would always be cut out with her when at the age of four, following a telling off,  she went and packed her little suitcase, appeared at the living room door with her coat on  and said she was going to stay at Grandma’s.


  1. That gave me flashbacks. My daughter was a puker and the haven't-slept-much-ometer currently stands at 15 months and counting. Must be girls.

  2. yeah, I blame girls too ! lol
    (goes and runs for cover)