Sleep

Time for a post about the big one…sleep.

Let’s start at the beginning…

On 3rd April at 10.59pm, baby 2011 was born by emergency c section. This was a Sunday. I first had labour pains on the very early hours of the previous Tuesday. So I spent 5.5 nights pacing, bouncing on a birthing ball or doubled over hanging on to the back of a dining room chair.

No sleep count 5.5 nights.

Baby2011 was complicated birth and so I was not put up on the c section ward until my notes had been written up at 3.15am. I did snatch a bit of sleep thanks to a couple of shots of pethidine in the hospital. The other babies on the ward were screamers. I spent a couple of hours lying in a really weird position unable to move my lower body due to the op and petrified that baby2011 would wake up as I wasn’t meant to lift him. At 7am the lights went on and I hadn’t been to sleep.

2nd and 3rd nights in hospital baby2011 slept all day and partied all night. When he slept, the squealer in the next bed didn’t.

8.5 nights no sleep.

We came home from the hospital and baby2011 screamed all night.

9.5 nights no sleep.

You can see where I’m going with this. My baby2011 was not a sleepy newborn.

As the weeks passed he could be persuaded to sleep by breastfeeding. A habit I knew I shouldn’t have encouraged but screw that for a bit of a break!

He didn’t like sleeping in the day either. As soon as you tried to put him down…ping! Hiya! Cuddle me or I won’t sleep.

And if there was noise then we were stuffed, he could hear a pin drop. We struggled with his constant over tiredness but he could not be persuaded to sleep unless in the car, the buggy or during a breast feed.

And even then, when the buggy stopped, the car pulled up or I dare take him of the breast too early. Ping! Hiya! We even used to unclip the car seat and gingerly lift it out the car and ping, awake. We tried coats over his seat during transfer and rocking it mimicking the car. But as soon as we arrived at destination he was awake and screaming “get me the hell out of this chair mum!”

The daytime sleeping never really improved. But he started to settle at night from 10pm-5.30am for about 3 weeks when he was 7 weeks old. Heaven!

Short lived.

Then we had baby jabs, teething, and a million colds. In September he got an awful cough.

Now when I talk about baby2011’s sleep and say he’s unsettled and never slept a night, I mean we were up with him between 2 and 7 times a night. Usually around 4 times. And he gets up between 5 and 6am.

Meeting friends their babies would drift off in their buggies or in their mummy’s arms. There was me pacing and rocking my overtired, overstimulated baby.

I look knackered, have no time or energy to make myself look good. Therefore I lost confidence in how I look and am aware of how boring I have become. Sleep obsessed!

And their babes conk out for a couple of hours. I’d get 30 minutes!!!!

Yes, unhealthily, I grew very jealous of my friends with babies who slept. Some went to bed at 7 and slept until 7am. How!? I couldn’t believe that this ever happened.

Then came the advice from all angles. Now I’m not an idiot. Anyone who knows me knows that I research everything to death. Sleep was fast becoming an obsession.

A bottle rather than a breast feed before bed, nope. Put him in bed with you, nope. Put him to bed later, nope. When he crawls he’ll sleep, nope. When he walks he’ll sleep, nope. Leave him to cry, can’t!

I even visited a cranial osteopath, odd and didn’t help!

I went back to work and if anything baby2011’s sleep got worse. Up 6 times a night, sitting on the rocking chair or pacing the floors in the pitch black.

His cot my everest.

Asleep in my arms at 3.20am but did I dare put him back in the cot!? How long would we get out of him the next stretch? So if I conquered the cot I’d get back into bed. I’d lie awake heart pounding wondering when he’d next wake up. Drift off to sleep after an hour and then, ping!

We even joked that he was such a light sleeper even thinking about him woke him up! I’m sure it did!

We tried magic pyjamas (ones he’d slept better in the previous week!), dream feeds, cheerios before bed and moved his cot to every position in his nursery. Nope, nothing worked.

By this stage baby2011 is 9 months old. Me and dad2011 have given up on a drink in the evenings and a night out was out of the question. We were in bed by 8pm! We’d get cross with baby2011 and snap at each other. We even felt too guilty to let grandparents baby sit him as he was such a sensitive sleeper.

Anyway, at the end of our tether we looked into sleep specialists and I bought more books, hoping that a nugget of gold would be found in this information and he’d sleep even just 4 hours in one go!

We got him a duvet and pillow at 1 year old. He got a cold and spent a week coughing.

Then he had his mmr and wouldn’t go in his cot or our bed so I sat up with him in a chair all night…

Just when we facing breaking point, I’m talking trips to doctors for help and about to fork out for super nanny. We seem to be turning a corner.

It’s bank holiday weekend and baby2011 is 13 months. He has only woken up once the last 3 nights. I have been awake waiting for him to wake but he’s doing it!

There is no rhyme or reason, maybe just natural maturity of his sleep. But he’s getting there.

Yes I’m still sat here waiting for cbeebies to come on air. But compared to the nights we have had over the last year I could run a marathon today.

If you have a baby that doesn’t sleep soundly. You’re not alone. I could write a book on it and so could the other mum’s who’ve been through the same difficult time. @SDalts dm me if you want to talk x

Car parking spaces

With baby2011 around it’s hard to be lazy. He runs rings around me! Much to the delight of dad2011 he also runs rings around him but whilst kicking a football. Well I say football, football, rugby ball, the cat’s ball, the remote control, my mobile, a bit of rogue broccoli. He’ll kick anything. He’s football and kicking mad!

Now baby2011 doesn’t sleep so much. So when he does go to bed it’s hard to be lazy then. In the daytime I just do a rotation of the house, picking things up, tidying, making mental notes that baby2011 has put one of his shoes in the laundry basket and my keys in the cat’s bowl. I sometimes even manage to persuade him to sit in high chair with a bread stick or give him a pen to play with long enough to be able to show the side board a duster or the front room rug some shake and vac.

So you can’t be lazy, even if you wanted to.

I was never any good at being patient but having baby2011 has taught me that being impatient just makes situations more fraught.

Baby2011 went for a “phase” of about 2 weeks when he was about 10 months old when he would only eat cheerios. Beside myself with worry I served up cheerios about 4 times a day. Baby2011 ate the cheerios one by one. Each meal taking about an hour. Now if I didn’t have patience before that, this “phase” certainly trained me to chill out. Now the cheerios are with milk and go on a spoon, baby2011 is getting to grips with plastic cutlery. This is great but every spoonful of cheerios and milk goes over his shoulder before at best, one left on the spoon makes it into his mouth.

Patience is needed at every point with a baby. Meal times, in the car, when you’ve said “no, sit on your bottom” for the 50th time during lunch and they’re still trying to dive out of the high chair. You quickly learn to be patient or you just lose it.

And goodness you have to be strong to have a baby. Yes emotionally strong, physically strong to cope with labour and birth. But I’m talking strong enough to carry wiggling baby, packed to the brim changing bag, lunch box when weaning, and still find a free hand to lock the car or pick up the dummy that little one has just lobbed into the middle of the road.

So as mum2011, I have patience, I am stronger than ever before and any ability to be lazy is a distant dream.

So why do I not have the patience, why do I completely lose it, why do I want to throttle any moron that parks in a parent and child space when they 1. Do not have a child and 2. Have a child that is 19.

We do not need or want the space because we are lazy, we have established that mums cannot be lazy. We are also now strong and as balanced as donkeys when carrying all our mum and baby stuff, this is not why we need the space either.

We need the effing parent and child space because we physically cannot open the door wide enough to get our babies out of their car seats in a regular space!

This rant also goes out to jerks who, when we haven’t been able to get a parent and child space park so close to our car that even Kate moss would struggle to slip in the back seat. Baby on board sign and car seat in back are a giveaway maybe that we need to get into the car easily.

Sorry, reverse you say and then strap little angel in!? And what do we do with baby whilst we reverse? Sit him in trolley in pissing down rain whilst we try not to run him over? Whilst we watch others zip round car park within inches of him. I think not.

So jerks and morons, park in the normal spaces. Because I don’t have any patience for you.

*sighs, picks up cheerios and packs 3 bags for lunch outing whilst noticing the rain beating down*

One

Baby2011 turned one last week. I thought I might have a bit of a breakdown that my tiny newborn was one whole year old. But I held it together, we had a party and I even said a few words to his fans. I dealt with it brilliantly. This is because I am completely in denial! The number 1s on the front of all his beautiful cards don’t seem to be real. Really one whole year!?

I haven’t blogged for a while and this too is poignant. I obviously have not needed the crutch of my blog to deal with what motherhood has chucked at me over the last couple of months. I said yesterday to my lovely mum that I felt relaxed for the first time since I was heaving enormous bump round surrey and watching homes under the hammer with a bacon double cheeseburger. It’s getting easier. He’s sleeping deeper, can communicate better and his smile is infectious!

I was also talking my wonderful Sis in law about how we feel there is so much to do in our lives but we don’t know where to start. I’m talking as parents, professionals and socially. It’s like the first year of baby2011’s life, my life was his life. But as he grows more independent I get a teeny bit more of my life back.

I’m not sure how I feel about this. Yes I joke about baby2011 being my tiny newborn and snuggling him up like a helpless teeny babe. He of course greets this with a poke in my eye or a kick in the boob. But i genuinely feel a pang of sadness, it physically hurts sometimes when he does something “grown up”. Drinking from his beaker without me helping, eating his food without my help. He can climb the stairs, and he only bloody went and started walking didn’t he!

Of course this is all brilliant and whilst I commend his development and burst at the seams with pride I want to rewind. I never cherished the feeding every 2 hours, the fact that I had to hold him so carefully when I bathed him, how he didn’t have teeth oh, and those tiny inoffensive poos!!!!

The whole year has been a whirlwind. Of worry, of stress, of hopelessness, elation, amazement, wonder, happiness and it’s been amazing. I cannot thank the world enough for bringing baby2011 into my life.

I have just got home after his one year weight and height check with the health visitor. I think back to my first post about attending the weighing clinic. What a difference a year makes. Yes I had to save the newborns from the balls and toys my beautiful baby2011 was literally lobbing across the waiting room. But I was also an old hand. My big mouth practically welcoming everyone to my clinic with their newborns and making friends with anyone who’d talk to me!

Baby2011 is at an amazing age now. I actually think this is my new favourite age for him. He’s learning, copying, dancing, walking, loving, arguing and his personality is shining brighter and brighter. He’s making his mark on the world. Watch out world, he’s an absolute cracker!

New tricks

This week has been another week of firsts. Baby2011 stood on his own for approximately 15 seconds. Ok, so when he realised I wasn’t holding him up he plonked down onto his soggy nappy (lucky cushioning!) But for those 15 seconds he wasn’t a baby anymore, he was reaching the realms of toddlerdom.

Also a first was writing “drop off poo” on my to do list. Ok, I got used to carrying around pots of wee when I was pregnant never did I think of upgrade to carrying around poo. Not my poo I hasten to add, baby2011’s poo. After having something called a rotovirus (apparently very common in babies his age, and subsequently found out 4 of his friends had had it!) he was still being sick on and off over the space of a couple of weeks. Anyway I took him to the docs. It took me so long to take him in as I’m sure most docs think you’re a neurotic mother or lying. But I certainly won’t care about that anymore as he was diagnosed as temporarily lactose intolerant. He now drinks soya milk.

For the first time since I stopped breastfeeding at 8/9 months he goes bezerk for a bottle of milk. He was off his food for a couple of weeks but now he eats like he’s never seen food before. I actually think he put on weight in 2 days. He woke up looking rounder.

Another first this week was our first 1st birthday playdate. *sob* I can’t deal with our babies being 1! How quickly has that gone!? Rewind please! The playdate was lovely because I’m incredibly fortunate that I’ve made so many truly fabulous mummy friends. The babies played, swapped dummies, snot, toys and pulled each others hair but they were so happy.

And now tomorrow, my niece’s 1st birthday. *big gulp* I cannot believe it has been a year since me and my sis in law were heavily pregnant scoffing (yes this is true!) club sandwiches PLUS chips in the gym of all places and my sis in law remarked on how uncomfortable she was and how baby was so active. Well early that next morning I received a text that waters had broken. What seemed like an eternity passed, but then we got the text. Baby was here, it was a girl, she was perfect and she had the most beautiful name ever.

I had never seen a new born baby before. But as I waddled, massively pregnant, up the stairs to the maternity ward I heard babies crying. “Was that her”, I thought, tears in my eyes. I asked for my sis in law at reception and waddled through to the ward, heard my sis in law’s voice as she said it was cool to open the curtain and come in.

There they were, my sis in law looked radiant! Absolutely radiating beauty, happiness and contentment. I pointed and sobbed like a complete idiot. There she was, she was teeny, perfect and her little mouth pursed shut and her tiny eyes closed tight. Dark, beautiful hair. Perfection.

I could not believe I was trusted to hold her, but I did. Wrapped in blankets she was passed in to my arms and I daren’t breath she was so so special to hold.

My brother in law appeared, eyes straight to his brand new daughter and my sis in law started to crack me up with hilarious and alarming tales of birth, breastfeeding and sleep deprivation.

A day i will never forget. And i cherish that memory of meeting her for the first time.

We spent the first few months hiding the new babies under muslins breastfeeding out and about. Usually wearing our sunglasses to hide the bags!!!

And now the cousins play. They chatter, they jostle for position and they hug. Hard to think of them as bumps that we used to rub and complain about!

Happy birthday to my beautiful niece. And congrats to my bro and sis in law.

Now can you please stop growing up you monkeys!!!!

Courage

Courage

Physically having a baby takes courage.

Being a mum takes courage.

Everyday you find the courage to try new things, to take charge. Sometimes just to get up and put your mascara on in the early days! Yes you get knocked back a lot by the the little confidence crushers that are our beautiful babies. But you find the courage over and over to get on with being a mum and the best one you can be at that.

Baby2011 has a lot of courage. The courage to put his hands down the toilet, the courage to climb anything in his way to reach something dangerous, and the courage to look me right in the eyes whilst he’s sat in his high chair having his lunch, smile his winning smile and lob the carefully, lovingly sliced and baked sweet potato wedges against the white front room wall.

I’ve found the courage this week to do a few new things. Ok, so basically I copied things and stole ideas from my mummy friends who are all so much more savvy, in control and cleverer than me and made me think I should buck my ideas up!

I’ve found the courage to give baby2011 fruit shoots as he won’t drink water on days that have a y in their name. He’s still functioning normally, despite all the worries of e numbers, sugar etc and at least he’s now drinking some form of liquid. Thank goodness for that *rolls eyes*.

I also found the courage to stop paying £6 every 4 weeks to get baby2011’s hair cut in a kidz (yes kidz) hair salon and have cut it myself. Contrary to dad2011’s opinion that he now looks like Ian Beale or Rodney Trotter it actually looks pretty good.

I found the courage to take baby2011 to a cranial osteopath. (A whole new blog!) and the courage to put my size 12 skinny jeans on and look in a mirror!

I needed a lot of courage to give baby2011 baked beans for tea the other evening. The wind did cause mass hysteria but the nappy wasn’t too bad in the morning. My baby recipe repertoire is expanding. Gourmet don’t you know!

This week me and dad2011 have needed lots of courage. Firstly because baby2011, who let’s face it has never been a fan of sleep, has been up all night and not even napped in the day. And secondly for the nappies and sick we dealt with on an hourly basis!

A sickness bug, a bout of teething and now all three of us having colds and hardly enough energy to find the sky plussed episodes of InThe Night Garden and Baby Jake has taken its toll on us all.

Romantic ideas of lunches in the spring sun and a few drinks once baby2011 went to bed were out the window quicker than an Essex girl can say “shud dup”!

The romantic family notions of skipping through meadowsswapped for Horlicks and bed before “no likey, no lighty” on a sat night and turning up at the in laws in time for a delicious roast on Sunday.

Still at the risk of sounding cheesy it was lovely to all be together. Even if me and dad2011 did lose it at 5am last weds morning mildly disagreeing on whether to administer calpol or not. I said no, he said yes, it was very political! This at the time of course ended in divorce discussions but by 7am we’d realised we liked each other too much and made up.

So courage mustered for birth, check!
Courage gained to be a good mum to my boy, check!
Courage to start back at work… Erm, oh hello Jack Daniels. It’s been a while old friend but you’re needed!

Spasm

Spasm

Baby2011 is wrapped up to ridiculous levels to leave house in the
“cold snap” that has gripped Surrey, and has gone to the chemist with dad2011. I am lying on the bedroom floor (been here nearly 4 hours now) as my back has gone into sciatic spasm.

It’s not labour pain, but it still hurts and I cannot move a muscle or I screech and cry.

Painkillers of epic proportion are on their way! Thank god as I can’t even pick up the remote to turn off this god awful programme I’m watching upside down about grey people from Wales  buying antiques (term used loosely!) and selling them for a few quid more than they bough and then wetting themselves with excitement. Sorry in foul mood!

My back seized up this morning. I was holding baby2011 and bent down to feed cat and couldn’t straighten back up again. Luckily dad2011 is home and was able to grab baby2011 before he ingested the ” felix as good as it looks”. I then managed to crawl and collapse in a heap.

After a long while of trying to persuade a lady on the end of the phone that i wasn’t fibbing or being a hypochondriac she reluctantly agreed to put me on the list for a home visit from a doctor. But “they are very busy ” she said “so who knows when he’ll get there”. So here i am, frustrated by the pain and disgusted at the state of the carpet and cob web I can see below the radiator  waiting for emergency doctor.

Dad2011 had been in the loft at the time getting our Moses basket down to lend to friends expecting a baby girl next month (very exciting!). Whist drama unfolded downstairs our cat decided to ascend loft ladder and go crazy in the vast and only partially boarded loft. He was retrieved and thrown onto landing whilst baby2011 threw everything he could reach from his cot onto floor and I lay sobbing on the bedroom carpet. A really great morning, or as my sister would put it…an epic fail.

So here we are. What to do now. And how on earth can I look after baby2011 with a useless back.

When I was pregnant I remember being convinced I’d be bored caring for a baby. Bored not having any brain stimulation and thought i’d have lots of time to study for a professional qualification or do some artwork for the house or read Wuthering Heights. How naive I was! I barely have time to dust the front room or phone a friend.

And although I know I don’t sit down often because I’m so busy, I cannot for the life of me tell you what I’m doing that takes up so much time. And also what means once baby2011 has gone to bed means my house looks like the Tasmanian Devil has been raving with 50 mates in my kitchen.

But then I remembered. Everything with a baby takes not twice as long but 5 times as long as it should.

For example, baby2011 like cheerios for breakfast. I am not allowed to help or rush him when he’s eating his cheerios so I wait whilst he feeds himself one cheerio at a time. Breakfast therefore can take an hour.

A bottle of milk, simple to make and give to baby. Takes a few minutes I hear you cry! Well, once bottle washed, sterilised, kettle boiled, feed measured and bottle cooled. We have to put In the night garden on for a point of focus. Baby2011 will then want to play with the remote control and after hiding that (and you have to be convincing it’s gone now he’s bigger and cleverer!) he might drink an oz or 2 of milk before cat appears and he bats bottle away to wriggle down and chase him. It could therefore take up to an hour to give him his milk!

Even a nap. You think baby tired baby will go to sleep. Well not in our house. Baby tired, baby pulls grumpy face, baby throws dummy on floor (under sofa is the equivalent of being lost forever!), find clean dummy, get headbutted, place baby in cot. Baby2011 will crawl up and down cot, bump head and cry and then after about 30 minutes will go to sleep for a bit.

Heading out the door to see friends, baby2011 will do a big poo. Change nappy, he throws hat on floor, throws rusk (bribe to be happy whilst I load car) all over back seat, wiping hands on my only clean jumper that I’m wearing. Baby2011 falls asleep in car so I drive around a further 30 minutes to keep him asleep!

Emergency doctor arrived. Asked me why I was sitting on floor. If I could have got up I would have punched him in the face. Prescribed painkillers, instructed dad2011 to go and get them, told him wrong chemist was open and once again we have a fabulous experience with a GP.

Dad2011 returned. Painkillers spaced me out. But it was the glass of red wine helped me to walk about a bit.

Wish I could explain to baby2011 why I’m not chasing him around and scooping him up for a cuddle. He looks confused. Dad2011 of course is being amazing but I feel so guilty not being able to do anything.

Hopefully I’ll be on the mend soon and able to cuddle my baby boy.

Times like this, sitting back and seeing what’s going on without you make me realise how lucky I am. A wonderful mum, mother in law and friends all offering help and sympathy.

How hard must it be for mothers who don’t have that support, who are on their own or who are truly  poorly? A wish and a prayer for them all. I’ll stop moaning now.

God I hope I’m well enough to hoover soon, the carpet really is a disgrace :0)

Perfect

When baby2011 was about 5 days old he fell asleep after a feed. I wrapped the fragile, tiny newborn up in a blanket more carefully than you would a million £ antique. I tip toed up the stairs quieter than I’d ever done before. Then I crept over to the bedroom, his  Moses basket in sight and…wacked his perfect new born head on the door frame. “Waaaaaah!”

That’s confession one! There are, unfortunately for him, quite a few more.

I do think as a mum you’re under a lot of pressure to be perfect. My health visitor wisely said to me (3rd visit after the first fateful one!!) that the only pressure mothers are under is pressure from themselves.

We are the only ones who freak if our babies cry in Tescos or puke on the floor in Starbucks. Let’s face it, it’s not like you can control it!

I definitely felt (and still feel) the pressure to be perfect. To have the perfectly behaved baby and to appear like everything is straightforward and easy peasy.

Eeeerm, well thank the lord for gcse drama and a level theatre studies! Maybe I’m fooling a few.

God I’ve done so many stupid things since baby2011 arrived. I blame sleep deprivation. And hormones! Yes it must be hormones.

And seeing as this blog is becoming somewhat cathartic I confess to being less than perfect as a mum.

I once (actually maybe more) swigged jack Daniels out the bottle at 08.45 when baby2011 was a few days old. Arguably it did us both good.

The first time baby2011 wee’d up in the air with no nappy on I put my hands up to stop me getting a face full and it all went back all over him.

I always did and still do let baby2011 sleep in my arms so I can watch This Morning without having to run up and down stairs.

If baby2011 throws his dummy on the floor I lick it and he has it back.

I have to put In The Night Garden on to persuade him to eat, sleep and play nicely for 5 minutes so
I can unload the dishwasher. I’ve watched 6 episodes today and I really dislike upsy daisy (tarty!) and wonder whether the tombliboos are well looked after…i reallydon’t understand how makka pakka is smaller than iggle piggle but whatever!

Baby2011 sleeps on his front and his nursery is 21 degrees.

When the little monkey won’t eat any of my homemade, slaved in the kitchen for hours to make meals he has fish fingers, garlic bread and chips…

Baby2011 probably falls and bangs his head about 3 times a day.

Yes, I have visited lots of baby modelling websites to see how much he could earn us. And yes, he was so much cuter than any of the uglies on the site!

At baby2011’s first derby day I drank 3 glasses of champers and 2 glasses of wine and then
breast fed him in a tent listening to the commentary of my horse (Pour Moi) winning me about £60.

I still walk him round and sway until
he falls asleep. Then place him in his cot holding my breath in case he wakes as he touches he mattress.

I turn the plug off and let him play with my phone charger. It keeps him
Quiet for 5 minutes…

I’m liberal with calpol.

Baby2011 and i have had some awesome times and he can’t even talk yet! He’s my best mate that little fellow.

Being perfect is soooooooooooo dull!

Eye gouging

There are severe punishments for eye gouging in most sports. Fish hooking (sticking your finger in opponents mouth and hooking their cheek) is even banned from wrestling. Head butting (the stag do favoured show of testosterone) can see you in prison. Hair pulling, doesn’t warrant the same severe punishments as the aforementioned actions, but it bloody hurts.

Baby2011 has mastered all of these actions beautifully.

To get him to bed tonight I have been head butted twice, been scalped and he fell asleep with his fingers fish hooking my left cheek. I’m battered and bruised.

But this is a small price to pay for an easy bedtime with the next stop being the divine sound of fridge open, glass out of cupboard, unscrew, glug glug glug glug, sip, sigh, aaaaahhhhhh.

Injuries aside, I’m stupidly, head over heels in love with baby2011. Of course I always have been, but this week his character has developed even more. I know him better. I can see he understands me. It’s weird. But amazing.

I have spent most of the last week saying; NO *disappointed face*, and CAREFUL *shit he’s going to fall and clonk his head face*, and STOP *if you eat my bank statement or the christmas thank you notes I’ve just addressed and stamped I’ll give you to the gypsies face*. He’s hilarious. And boy doesn’t he know it!

Been talking to lots of friends old and new and they’re enjoying this silly little blog (thank you for reading by the way) and I started thinking about all the things you are just never told when you’re pregnant.

A baby’s eye gouging tendencies is one of them, but I’ve thought of lots more…

1.  When your baby smiles for the first time, you will cry
2. You will jump red lights, cut up ferraris and ignore police cars if your baby is crying in the back of the car for a feed or attention
3. When your baby sleeps the whole night you won’t
4. After a while when your crawling baby eats day old broccoli he’s found under the sofa you won’t really care so much…
5. Babyhood goes so quickly (actually everyone tells you this, but it’s the truest truth anyone does tell you!)
6. Being pregnant is easy
7. You will talk about periods, stitches, poo, boobs and your sex life with people you’ve only known for 30 seconds and it’s not weird
8. Returning texts, emails, straightening hair, fake tanning, eye lash tinting, toenail painting even leg shaving is ditched in favour of five minutes peace
9. You will use food to bribe your child
10. You cannot put in to words how much you love your baby, however sleep deprived, however much they wreck your house, it’s love like nothing else

And it’s so true what people are quick to tell you, it’s the hardest but most rewarding job ever. I’ll raise a glass (or 4) to that!

    

The Grinch

Baby2011 is scrabbling around the floor at a rate of knots now. He’s eaten a handful of cat food, chewed the tinsel on the bottom of the Christmas tree and is completely traumatising our poor cat. It’s impossible to beat him once he sets his sites on something.  It’s like racing Usain Bolt to KFC.

Me and dad2011 baby proofed the house. Then promptly realised that nothing is baby proof. Or should that be baby2011 proof!? 

For his first Christmas baby2011 was thoroughly spoiled. The martian playhouse, ride on train and fire engine being particular favourites. Our house is filled with plastic, and we’re having to put the boxes and wrapping paper out for the bin men in stages so the council don’t do us for industrial scale waste. We were overwhelmed and grateful for all his presents, he’s a very lucky boy.

I’ve just put all 3 martians and their dog to bed in the sleep pod, built a rainbow tower with some mega bloks and i’ve matched up letters and word bricks to the rewards of positive beeps and songs. Baby2011 went to bed 50 minutes ago… 

Me and dad2011 having anticipated this spoiling, (oh sh*t, I mean father Christmas!!!) gave him some classic books and a cuddly toy. But when he’s older we’ll tell him all the presents in the millions of photos we took were all from us and Santa. 

We got some cracking pics. Naturally he was dressed up as father Christmas, fed his first taste of chocolate (although I’m sure dad2011 has given him some before!) and truly did get more pleasure from the paper and boxes than the hi tech, well designed toys they concealed.

I’m just about recovering. It was knackering, overwhelming, more sober than usual (although family may disagree on that one!), but it really was magic. 

I used to hate Christmas, i mean i was a real Grinch. I never drank mulled wine, never wanted any presents, I changed the radio station as soon as i heard that familiar intro “its christmaaaaaaas!” and don’t even get me started on bloody Christmas cards! But now I know for years to come I’ll get caught up in creating the magic for baby2011. His happiness will be my Christmas gift.  

Wowzer, I’ll be cheerily celebrating new years eve next (well, maybe one day!). 
 

  

Men!

Men!

Gosh the pressure now this blog is being shared publicly and scarily with my nearest and dearest. Anyways, here goes… 

Baby2011 slept the whole night last night. This has never happened before. Me and dad2011 naturally were awake at the usual monkey playtimes. Then the cat came and pranced about on my head for about 20 mins. So we’re rested an average amount. But for baby2011 this is mega!

He also has cut his first tooth. It’s perfect. It’s teeny and white and it’s beautiful. I keep trying to prize his lips open for a look, he thinks it’s hilarious to clamp mouth shut of course. But every time I get a glimpse of the gem I kiss him as though he’s just beaten Seb Vettel in the Monaco Grand Prix (one day!!) When it grows more I’m going to brush it every day (this should be fun!).

More amazing (even than the 8 month awaited tooth!) is that he’s making lots of noises, like he’s trying to talk. And aptly for this post “da da da da” is what he’s “saying”. We, of course, have confirmed that dada is his first word. *heart melts*

I’m thrilled he’s saying dada. Dads have it tough. Dad2011 seriously deserves some recognition. 

There was talk a few months back about more antenatal information being published for dads by the NHS. DO IT!

Give them the option to learn more about what’s happening. It’s a hell of a shock!

Us girls are immersed in information, check ups, witty anecdotes and loads of chats with women who have had children from the moment we get the stretchy maternity jeans on. We’re in babyzone. We also get maternity leave. Men just have a partner who’s tired, grumpy, fattening and in my case rather useless.

They’re shown a black and white image of a cashew nut and expected to bond. 

They then have to pay out loads of money for baby stuff. They then have to think twice about boozing in case mother to be starts contractioning and they have to drive somewhere. The books are clinical and processey and even antenatal classes, which are amazing, still focus on the mum and baby.

But worse than the battered bank balance and one beer rules is the fact that during labour and birth they feel completely and utterly useless. 

Dad2011 was my rock during labour. My labour was rubbish, long, inefficient and it hurt. Dad2011 was sent out for food which I ate hanging over a birthing ball and then threw up (he didn’t do sick). He electrocuted himself on my tens machine whilst I was shouting at him to stick the pads back on my back. He ran me a million baths and then sat with me to check I didn’t fall asleep and drown. 

Then when we FINALLY got accepted into the hospital I got the drugs and he had to sleep on a chair with a dressing gown wrapped around his head to get some much needed shut eye. Some midwives were nice to him, others were complete cows. He also had to pay about £1000 for the parking at the hospital.

Then we ended up having an emergency c section, so after waiting over 100 hours to meet his son or daughter there was a sudden panic, he was given some fetching scrubs, and then was made to feel even more scared/useless as he sat with me for the operation.

Baby2011 was born, dad2011 was torn between me in surgery and baby2011 in weighing room. For those first few minutes of baby2011 he was completely responsible for our baby on his own.

I remember dad2011 appearing next to me holding up baby2011 looking so thrilled. They were both amazing.

Then dad2011 had to return to work. Our bubble was burst.

Men have it bloody hard at this time. They don’t know what to do. We’re too wrapped up in how much we hurt and caring for new baby to pay them any attention. They’re 3rd in importance after baby and mother, when really they’ve been through the mill too. 

They have it hard once yourself settling in as a family. Each week they miss things if they’re working. In this day and age men are expected to change nappies, sterilize bottles, do bath time, cook and clean as well as earn a crust. At the risk of sounding very 1950’s housewife they also come home to (in my case) a mrs who is less than groomed. In fact dad2011 is incredibly lucky if I am not wearing my £2.99 primark pyjama bottoms with a hole and I’m wearing a layer of mascara.

He also works 12-14 hour days and comes home to dinners such as a vegetarian sausage, bread and butter and salad. Or chicken kiev and baked beans. 

I was convinced he was going to leave me when he had to help me the loo at the hospital, leave your dignity at the hospital door when in labour! And even now I think of all the girls who work at the banks looking glam and him coming back to me in my primark specials moaning at him for not putting his plate in the dishwasher. What a lucky man!  

I do not underestimate how lucky I am having dad 2011. He’s amazing. An amazing dad and an amazing husband.

In the words of Deneice Williams in 1984; “Let’s hear it for the boy”