It’s now been almost 14 months since Spawnio emerged from her comfy nest. I’m feeling rather drained by it all, and somewhat sad.

It’s still a case of no conversation. My life is mothering, being poked in the eyes by Freyby Kruger, expressing myself in whimsical ways on social media, and that’s pretty much it. I’m feeling less and less human.

My baby hours have managed to increase significantly. See, for the past few months, the babe has pretty much decided that instead of sleeping in her own cot, she’s going to share our bed. I’m lucky if she sleeps for three hours now. And worse still, she’s walking. She’s not being careful about it, either. Today she decided to forget she’s not yet a pro and try walking down the steps from the kitchen to the lounge. This obviously led to tears. She’s fine though – she landed pretty well.

I find her hilarious – after her bath yesterday, she got taken to the bedroom by her daddy and promptly returned in all her naked baby glory to take a couple of flannels. She left the bathroom, got halfway to the bedroom, a flannel in each hand, before she realised she could come away with more if she really tried, so she turned around, Pingu’d her way back, and picked up a flannel with her teeth. Obviously happy with herself, she then returned to the bedroom to see what else she could get up to.

In the meantime, I’m back to work. I now work for her daddy, which is nice but also not. I have my own office which I share with a baby. And she’s not happy just being in a very baby-friendly office, not when she knows outside the office is her daddy, however it means his and his colleagues’ productivity is severely reduced because she’s basically the office kleptomaniac. She apparently steals papers from one desk and drops them beneath another; she’ll take their pens, their phones, anything she can get her grubby mitts on. And I still find myself hoping for an adult conversation. Needless to say, my office time’s been cut. I don’t really know by how much because when I was being told this I was pretty miserable and tired and not really registering the fact that actual words made by a human were being said to me.

I try to speak at home but mostly I’m ignored, grunted at… Don’t get me wrong, I know everyone’s had a long day, but they all had people to talk to and laugh with. I have a dog, cat, and a baby, and I’m growing more and more aware of how far I’ve withdrawn into myself. My Nan died two months ago and I miss her so much, that headstrong battle axe of mine. If my phone rings I know it’s one of two people – my dad or Trav. I don’t really bother messaging anyone anymore. I don’t really get to go out, and even weekends are a drag. Trav’s been up watching the rugby then going to work. He was great this morning, letting me sleep since I didn’t actually get to sleep until about 5am… I could be wrong but I think I’m so tired that sleeping’s become a bit of a chore which only results in a huge headache so why bother? I just really feel like I need a cuddle or something.

Anyway, seems like when you’re the only mother in your friend circle, it’s pretty easy to become an outsider – even more of an outsider than I already was.

I’m eternally grateful for my neighbour, who totally adores the babe and takes her for half an hour or so here and there – even trying to fold the washing is a nightmare when your babe decides the best place for the clothes is in the dog’s water bowl. But relations between her and the dog (it seems dog is her first word) have considerably improved. Now Freyby likes to stroke Rosie and occasionally give her a Freyby Cuddle (rests her head against the object of her affection). The cat was lucky enough to receive one yesterday too.

Of course, as much as I adore Rosie, I keep a very watchful eye on the two of them. I really don’t want Freyja to end up hurt because Rosie felt she needed to defend herself. But Rosie definitely seems to be accepting that this little babe is now a proper, if small, human now, and Freyja seems to be trying to bond with her in the way of food. She’ll hold something out to Rosie, Rosie will gently take it from her fingers (which has happened once and once only because I was too slow! Really proud of Rosie for how gently she took the food though).

Next year’s already looking like a tough one. Dad’s at the stage where he’s finding it too hard to live somewhere my mum was happy. We were going to keep this place on but in all honesty, it’s a death trap. The house itself is fine, but it seems our particular part of it is just not baby friendly. Besides, we’re going to save ourselves a lot of money by leaving here. We’ve got a lot for the amount we pay each month, but… we want our own place, and I think I’d feel weird redecorating what I see as my mum and dad’s place. Plus I’d like somewhere I can put toys in the garden and just let Freyby go to play with them – at the moment our garden access is via some dodgy stairs leading down from a dodgy balcony.

Anyway, I suppose this is just me rambling for the sake of rambling. I mean, I can whinge about the fact I have nobody to talk to, but I know what would happen if I did – I just wouldn’t talk. It feels like motherhood is a huge burden on everyone else in a way. So for now I’ll just say sod me, my child’s growing up happy and gentle with animals and it’s her that matters.