Wednesday, 12 February 2014: Three Hundred and Seventeen Days Old.

I’m starting to understand what people meant when they said having a “mobile” baby would come with a whole bunch of new challenges.

I thought they just meant the mess and the broken trinkets – I had no idea that there was more to it than that – but now Ayla’s crawling, almost walking, she’s become my constant shadow.

On the one hand I love having Ayla follow me around the house, seeing her little face appear in a doorway or feeling her little hands grab hold of my legs is so precious it makes my heart want to burst.

But on the other hand it means simple tasks such as mopping the floor are now wrought with danger… I never would have thought bucket of hot water and a soapy mop head could become such a worrisome combination!

I think it’s because although Ayla’s always been interested in what’s going on, she’s now able to actually get involved in it.

If I’m cooking in the kitchen Ayla’s at my feet, or standing up holding onto my knees, or getting stuck in the fridge.

If I go outside to check the mail Ayla sits banging at the front door from the inside, unknowingly blocking my reentry.

If I’m folding a never ending pile washing Ayla is faithfully by my side systematically unfolding it, crushing it, and throwing it on the floor piece by piece.

I never thought I could be so conflicted!

The slightly anxious perfectionist in me wants to scream at the chaos while the mother in me just wants to smile and laugh.

I know which of my sides has the better argument – the mother, of course – but I still struggle with trying to find the right balance and I suppose it’ll be something I’ll never quite get the hang of.

For now though, I just keep reminding myself that there’s always tomorrow and hope for the best that Ayla’s two hour nap doesn’t suddenly become a 20 minute recharge that leaves me caught out between a hungry baby, a half-cooked batch of muffins and a storm threatening to drench my nearly-dry sheets.