Becoming Mommy: The Things I Learned This Christmas

And a happy new year!

Boy, am I glad it's a new year!! Not that 2013 wasn't an awesome year for me (obviously), but as soon as the year begins to draw to a close, I become decidedly restless. I'm one of those people whose energy levels begin to dip towards the festive season, not because I hate Christmas - au contraire! - but because I know how much energy and obligation comes with the Christmas period. And a part of me suffers those emotions long before the first mince pies are out of the oven!

This year, because it was Ricky's first Christmas, we headed off to Rod's folks' place in Klerksdorp, my mom in the back seat and a boot full of presents, so that all the grandparents could have the privilege of spending this time with the first grandchild of this generation. I had made the (foolish) assumption that three days with grandparents, aunt and uncle would provide Rod and I a few moments to ourselves to relax, but I couldn't have been more off the mark. This Christmas marked the hardest I have worked as a parent thus far, including the sleepless nights in the early days. And taught me a couple valuable lessons.

Your style of parenting will ALWAYS be frowned upon

Ricky is an exceedingly independent little man, and loves to go off on his own to explore without us looking over his shoulder - and that suits me just fine. Of course I keep an eye on his doings, but I don't maintain a following distance that a Smurf couldn't fart in! I let him have his space. And I'm not terribly concerned with keeping him away from furniture for fear that he may tap his head against a table edge. It's going to happen sooner or later, I'd rather him learn to deal with it. As it is, he hardly notices when he does hurt himself, even if it seems severe enough to make me wince. But, as I found out, this particular brand of guerilla parenting is almost entirely unacceptable in certain circles, and so instead of giving my little man the opportunity to explore, I was forced into a situation where I had to watch his every move.

Of course, those involved will say that they don't want to interfere, and that we should go about our lives as we always do, but how often are those words true? I may leave Ricky to explore on his own, but those same "non-interfering" relatives will then chase him around the area keeping him in close proximity and under scrutiny, not directly criticising us, but huffing and puffing in martyr-like agitation because his neglectful parents aren't doing it and the task has (obviously) fallen to them. It's a wonder their halos don't grow heavy. I have myself never strived for sainthood, but I'm pretty sure that is not the way to do it.

And so, to avoid said huffing and puffing and the crown of "World's Worst Mom", I was reduced to tailing Ricky wherever he may wander for three whole days... Needless to say, he was utterly confused and more than a little grumpy to discover that his freedom had been curtailed for the sake of keeping CPS off of our doormat.

No matter what you say, your child will always be spoilt

I can't count the number of times I have insisted, sincerely, that Ricky did not need big, expensive gifts for Christmas. For God's sake, he was only nine months old. But I realised my breath was wasted when I saw the pile of gifts under the tree with Ricky's name on them! It took some ingenuity and this Tetris champion of 1996 about half an hour to get everything packed into the boot for our return journey, and I'm pretty sure I felt the back bumper dragging on the N12 between Potch and Joburg. I shudder to think what his gifts will be when he's 16! Or 21! Can you buy an island? Or a small country? It's not that I don't appreciate the gesture, I do, but I want to raise a well-balanced child who doesn't feel himself entitled at the drop of a hat. Our small house can barely accommodate everything he was given. I've chosen to put some toys away for a later stage, introducing them slowly so he doesn't lose interest for fear the money spent will be wasted. And now we're a mere two months from his first birthday. Lord, help me!

But, family politics and unnecessary stresses aside, I managed to snap a few pics, designated photographer that I am. Ricky was nine months old on Christmas day, and happily crawling and cruising away! He's now ten months old, due to my extended hiatus as a result of festive non-bliss, and tipping the scales at 10kg! That has such a nice ring to it! He's also started climbing EVERYTHING and standing unaided for brief moments, steadying himself when he realises that all that's in his hands is a bit of fruit or a rice wafer, giving a broad and proud grin at this accomplishment. What a lovely little man!