We Survived The First Year

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Hatta, formerly known as Peanut, celebrated his first birthday yesterday. It’s crazy how quickly time flies. To think that in the time Trump hired and fired a slew of key White House officials, Hatta grew from a tiny baby barely capable of anything but eating and sleeping, to an energetic, chatty, and happy toddler, always talking, always moving, and always pointing to something or other.

In that time, I have learnt a few things.

I’ve learnt that your stomach muscles are called core muscles for a very good reason. In my postpartum days, my stomach muscles were completely shot. Having delivered via C-section, I had very limited mobility. Every single movement (even reaching up to switch on the lights, would you believe it) was painful. I realised then, that you engage your stomach muscles in every thing you do. Every step, every turn, everything. I lamented the sit-ups and the crunches I never did in my younger days.

I’ve learnt that the moments you remember the most aren’t the typical milestones you’d expect. It isn’t Hatta’s first smile, or his first laugh, or the first time he said “mammamma” that I recall. I note those moments down in his baby journal, of course, but without flipping through it, I wouldn’t be able to remember the exact dates those things happened, or how old he was at the time.

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Conversations With Hatta: Have Playpen, Will Travel

The conversations are imaginary, but the situations are real.

 

Me:   I need to get started on dinner, Hatta, so I trust you’ll be able to entertain yourself in your playpen?

H:      Sure.

Me:   Here you go. Hope those toys are enough for you. I’ll be in the kitchen. Stay here, where I can see you, ok?

H:      Hmmph. Yeah.

Five minutes later…

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Conversations With Hatta: The Haircut

The conversations are imaginary, but the situations are real.

Earlier that day…

Me:   I’m going to get a haircut later today, so you can spend some quality time with Ayah. Is that ok?

H:      Sure.

Me:   Now it’ll just be a trim, ok? Nothing drastic. I’ll still be the same person, ok?

H:      Whatevs, Mummy. It’s not as if you’re going for plastic surgery or anything. Chill.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

After my hair appointment, I meet The Mister and Hatta for coffee. 

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Conversations With Hatta: The Sock

The conversations are imaginary, but the situations are real. 

 

Me:    Where’s your sock?

H:       On my foot.

Me:     The other one.

H:        It flew.

Me:     Socks don’t fly.

H:       That one did.

Me:    Please stop fibbing and tell me what you’ve done with your sock.

H:       I’m not fibbing. I’m telling you, it flew.

Me:     Hatta…

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Conversations With Hatta: Prison Break

The conversations are imaginary, but the situations are real. 

 

Hatta:   I broke through! I’m free! You thought you could confine me within these flimsy plastic panels, Mummy… you thought wrong! With my newfound mobility, I can finally explore the world!

Me:        What on earth are you babbling about?

I turn to look at him. 

Me:        Oh look at you, then. You’ve managed to roll out.

Hatta:   Yes indeed! I’ve escaped from that horrible primary-coloured monstrosity of a playpen I’ve been cooped up in… and now I’m freeeeeeee!

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