originally published on 10/13/2021

Lily is doing very well, but teething is a bitch. At night she’s basically decided to revert to newborn mode, coming every two hours. It’s become so bad two weeks ago that I straight out refused to give her the boob, which resulted in more frustration and crying (on both sides). But with the teeth also came the appetite and we can now finally speak of actual meals for her. (Her favourite is fried foods and pasta). 

While she’s standing up to balance, she’s not walking yet (at 14 months), but I feel she’s going through a massive language learning boost and mobility is just not as important right now. She’s constantly looking through books and naming everything in her baby babble. So far she can already say the following words: nose, eye, mouth, mama, papa, “eis” (which means hot) and cat. Also she mimics all animals sounds, which is just so cute. Despite being completely and wholly convinced by the concepts of Pikler and Montessori, which clearly state each child develops in their own stage and we should give them time, I sometimes yearn for her to walk. She’s the last baby in the baby group to crawl, everyone’s running circles around her, and I sometimes have to stop myself from lamenting her not walking yet. 

Why is there always this need to compare our children to others? I read and reflect as a mother, and still sometimes have this nagging little voice in my head about how other children can already do this and that. Or, worse, I find myself bragging about all the words she can already say – of course I’m proud, but no one else needs a blow-by-blow account on her speech development, right? (Except for you, dear reader, who gets it served hot on this blog).

I think the language we employ between mothers is quite fascinating, and ambivalent as fuck. Mums proudly send you pictures of their little ones walking and how they could already walk at eight months; but all the same there are laments like, “oh, be happy she’s not walking yet, it’s such a hassle.” It appears, sometimes, that we urge our children to develop faster than others, bragging about it subtly (or less subtly) to our friends, only to then lament how fast they’re developing. That’s odd, isn’t it? Maybe it’s the permanent split between being proud, but not wanting to appear too proud. 

Independent of  what other mums do, I try to restrain my negative talk about her, as well as the brags that only serve to put me in a better light. I love my stinking cute daughter and am so proud of her, and I hope I keep up the ability to let her develop in her own space and time, and marvel at how she becomes this little person, without worrying how much input I have to give.