When Miss Q first arrived, I thought how well (and even if) I could do everything that was required for her, was a reflection on my ability to mother.
Now I understand that is just not the case and am more than happy to concede that there are some things others are far better at doing than I.
Gregory is definitely superior at putting her to sleep for example.
I can, and do so successfully several times a day, but she knows I’ll hang around for a chat if she wants me to.
With Gregory it’s all business and she’s down before you can sing rock a bye baby.
My mother wins on guessing why she’s crying; ‘perhaps her nappy needs a change Nome,’ she’ll delicately say, and always be right.
Actually, my mother is always right on most things, which continues to be a main annoyance in my life, but is now more obvious than ever. My mum always knew if I’d need a sweater during the day, or if it was going to rain. When Q ask me those things, I’ll just tell her to ring her Nona.
My dad’s voice lulls her into some sort of trance. She’ll listen to him for hours.
Uncles have the roughhousing stitched up, which is good. I don’t want my girl to be a wuss.
Recipe ideas – other mothers for sure. Although I will lay claim to avocado and natural yoghurt. It’s really quite delicious. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.
Peek-a-boo is way cooler when it comes from someone else. Particularly a guy with a big bouffant and some facial hair.
But there ain’t a single person in the world that owns Miss Q’s particular brand of milk apart from me.
Nobody else in the universe knows just how she takes her mama-cuddles, (high on the left shoulder, deep in the neck, with a touch of wetness on the cheek) and call me arrogant, but I’m damn sure I’m the only one she wants when her world has fallen in.
It takes a village to raise a child, and I’m so grateful to all the people who live and help me in ours, but Miss Q will always only have one mum.