Diary of a Dyspraxic Mother - Entry 3

Well, today has been quite the adventure! Little one is officialy a toddler, and I swear there's been a transformation into a mini-explorer overnight. Gone are the days when I could pop them down on the play mat and know they'd stay put. Now, they're toddling off in every direction, and let me tell you, keeping up with them is no smal feat for this dyspraxic mum.
This morning, I found my little adventurer in the kitchen, proudly holding up a wooden spoon like they'd just discovered a new continent. The look of triumph on their face was priceless, but my heart nearly stopped when I realized they'd managed to open the drawer by themselves. How did they even get there so quickly? One second they were next to me, the next, they were halfway to Timbuktu.

I know most parents have their hands full with toddlers, but my dyspraxia adds an extra layer of challenge. Coordination and balance have never been my strong suits, so chasing after a tiny whirlwind is like a slapstick comedy routine. Picture me tripping over toys, bumping into furniture, and trying to avoid stepping on the cat, all while keeping an eye on my speedy little adventurer. It's like living in a constant game of obstacle course meets treasure hunt.
And oh, the near-misses! Today, they tried to scale the bookshelf like a tiny mountaineer. I swooped in just in time to prevent a disaster, my heart pounding like I'd just run a marathon. They looked up at me with those big, innocent eyes, and all I could do was laugh and scoop them up, giving them a million kisses. How can I be mad when they're so darn cute?

Despite the chaos, I wouldn’t trade these moments for anything. Every wobble and giggle, every time they grab my hand for balance or toddle into my arms for a cuddle, makes all the stumbles worth it. And hey, maybe they're teaching me a thing or two about resilience and adaptability. If my little one can navigate this big, new world with such enthusiasm, then surely I can find my way through the maze of motherhood, dyspraxia and all. Being a dyspraxic mum has its own set of unique hurdles. Simple tasks can feel like complex missions. Trying to dress a squirming toddler while struggling with my own clumsiness is a daily comedy show. And let’s not even talk about getting both of us fed and out the door on time—it’s like herding cats! But I've learned to embrace the chaos and laugh at the mishaps. After all, life’s too short to take too seriously, and my little one’s giggles are the best reminder of that.

So here's to another day of joyful chaos, unexpected discoveries, and the sweetest, most exhausting kind of love. Time to put my feet up (for as long as they'll let me) and recharge for whatever tomorrow’s adventure brings.

 With love and a bit of wobble,
 A Dyspraxic Mother