Tuesday 29 June 2010
We're All Going On A Summer Holiday!
Yay! I'm going on holiday. Bags are packed to breaking point, but I'm sure I've still have forgetten something. Dreading trying to keep The Baby still until the captain switches off the seatbelt sign. Trying to remember any Spanish words - drawing a blank. Except for "cerveza". Oh well, that's always useful.
Friday 25 June 2010
Where Did It Go????????
Bloody Hell. The Baby is 1 tomorrow. As in ONE WHOLE YEAR OLD! It's really true, this time last year I was sitting on the sofa, playing Joust on the xbox (you know, that really old game with the stupid little birds and the eggs and you have to pop the birds with your stick), and timing my contractions with a thing on the internet (Husband didn't have his android phone then, there's an app for that you know), waiting for them to get to that magic "1-minute long, 5 minutes apart" stage. (Little did I know that when I got to that stage, they'd just tell me to go and have a bath.)
Anyway, I digress. Oh yes, where did the time go? This year (especially this year as in 2010) has flown by, which is a complete mystery to me, as the individual minutes and hours often seem to drag. I'm thinking particularly of those minutes when she is screaming with righteous anger because her dinner isn't cooling down quick enough, or the hours before Husband is due in from work when I really need the loo but she will not let me put her down. But here we are. A year ago I was a pregnant woman, and today I am a mammy to a grumpy, wilful, stubborn, charming, curious, energetic, noisy, bewildering, mischeivous, crawling, squalking, almost-walking, chunky, practically hairless, beautiful little girl. And I couldn't be happier.
Thank you - to Husband, who, for all that I despair of him on here, is a truly fabulous husband and father. To my amazing family, who have kept me supplied with food, cleaned my house, taken The Baby away when I have been about to throw her out of the window, always had fantastic advice, and generally helped me along the way. To my lovely friends, old and new, and a special shout out to my mammy friends - between us we've seen and done it all. To all of you for reading, and telling me how much you've enjoyed it - that means a lot to me, and I hope I can keep being worth reading.
And thank you to my baby girl, for having a smile that makes me forget exactly how horrific your screams can be, for outgrowing your silent reflux, and for learning how to nap. And for being cool.
Right, I'm done now. Thank God I'll never get an Oscar, eh? They'd be vomiting in the aisles.
Anyway, I digress. Oh yes, where did the time go? This year (especially this year as in 2010) has flown by, which is a complete mystery to me, as the individual minutes and hours often seem to drag. I'm thinking particularly of those minutes when she is screaming with righteous anger because her dinner isn't cooling down quick enough, or the hours before Husband is due in from work when I really need the loo but she will not let me put her down. But here we are. A year ago I was a pregnant woman, and today I am a mammy to a grumpy, wilful, stubborn, charming, curious, energetic, noisy, bewildering, mischeivous, crawling, squalking, almost-walking, chunky, practically hairless, beautiful little girl. And I couldn't be happier.
Thank you - to Husband, who, for all that I despair of him on here, is a truly fabulous husband and father. To my amazing family, who have kept me supplied with food, cleaned my house, taken The Baby away when I have been about to throw her out of the window, always had fantastic advice, and generally helped me along the way. To my lovely friends, old and new, and a special shout out to my mammy friends - between us we've seen and done it all. To all of you for reading, and telling me how much you've enjoyed it - that means a lot to me, and I hope I can keep being worth reading.
And thank you to my baby girl, for having a smile that makes me forget exactly how horrific your screams can be, for outgrowing your silent reflux, and for learning how to nap. And for being cool.
Right, I'm done now. Thank God I'll never get an Oscar, eh? They'd be vomiting in the aisles.
Tuesday 22 June 2010
Boobs!
It's National Breastfeeding Awareness Week, so even though I have done this topic before, I'm going to do it again. And it's my blog so I can do what I like and you can't stop me so there.
So anyway, here are 10 reasons why breastfeeding is cool.
1. It's free. Free is good. Free means you have more money to spend on shoes and cake and gorgeous unnecessary baby clothes.
2. You don't have to faff around with the kettle at 3 in the morning.
3. You have to carry a lot less stuff around with you.
4. If you have a grumpy, unaffectionate baby like mine, you at least get a cuddle every now and again.
5. Related to faffing around, see above, but you don't have to be subjected to hunger-crazed screaming while you wait for the bottle to get to the right temperature.
6. You get to make your other half run around after you bringing you food and stuff.
7. Also, the fact that it has to be you that gets up for night feeds means you score an awful lot of points over the other half, to be used at your leisure and to your advantage.
8. You don't have to give extra water (which my baby flatly refused to take) when it's hot.
9. It's free. Did I mention that?
10. There are apparently loads of health benefits. Now to be honest, I'm slightly sceptical about the extent of these benefits, but there's a very good chance that they're there!
And some disclaimers.
1. It can be a bit of a pain in the tits. Quite literally. But it gets better.
2. It doesn't have to be all or nothing. Combined feeding can be an option, and was a lifesaver for me.
3. Some people can't do it full stop. And their babies turn out just fine.
4. I think you have to want to do it. If you feel like you're being guilted into it, you won't enjoy it and you'll find it easy to give up. Some people have an innate stubbornness that gets them through, but it's much easier to keep going through the problems if you feel genuinely happy about doing it.
And I think that's the main thing I want to say about breastfeeding. Be happy about it. It's a good thing. It's a nice, natural (and did I mention free?) thing. But it's not the be-all and end-all. Do it because you feel good about it, not because you feel like you "should". You're not a terrible mother if you give your baby a bottle. Of formula, that is. I'd call your skills into question if it was vodka.
So anyway, here are 10 reasons why breastfeeding is cool.
1. It's free. Free is good. Free means you have more money to spend on shoes and cake and gorgeous unnecessary baby clothes.
2. You don't have to faff around with the kettle at 3 in the morning.
3. You have to carry a lot less stuff around with you.
4. If you have a grumpy, unaffectionate baby like mine, you at least get a cuddle every now and again.
5. Related to faffing around, see above, but you don't have to be subjected to hunger-crazed screaming while you wait for the bottle to get to the right temperature.
6. You get to make your other half run around after you bringing you food and stuff.
7. Also, the fact that it has to be you that gets up for night feeds means you score an awful lot of points over the other half, to be used at your leisure and to your advantage.
8. You don't have to give extra water (which my baby flatly refused to take) when it's hot.
9. It's free. Did I mention that?
10. There are apparently loads of health benefits. Now to be honest, I'm slightly sceptical about the extent of these benefits, but there's a very good chance that they're there!
And some disclaimers.
1. It can be a bit of a pain in the tits. Quite literally. But it gets better.
2. It doesn't have to be all or nothing. Combined feeding can be an option, and was a lifesaver for me.
3. Some people can't do it full stop. And their babies turn out just fine.
4. I think you have to want to do it. If you feel like you're being guilted into it, you won't enjoy it and you'll find it easy to give up. Some people have an innate stubbornness that gets them through, but it's much easier to keep going through the problems if you feel genuinely happy about doing it.
And I think that's the main thing I want to say about breastfeeding. Be happy about it. It's a good thing. It's a nice, natural (and did I mention free?) thing. But it's not the be-all and end-all. Do it because you feel good about it, not because you feel like you "should". You're not a terrible mother if you give your baby a bottle. Of formula, that is. I'd call your skills into question if it was vodka.
Sunday 20 June 2010
Been Doing Stuff..
...for once, instead of just sitting on my bum in the house, wondering why The Baby is bored and grumpy. This has been a busy weekend! Went to watch the rubbish, rubbish football on Friday night. Then hit Mothercare sale on Saturday morning while The Baby was still at her grandma's. Where a sales assistant approached me to ask if I wanted to join their baby club, I just had to give them my details and due date. Fail. I am mean for enjoying her embarrassment when I informed her that I had in fact had my baby, a year ago. To be fair to her, I was bimbling around Mothercare, looking at pretty much everything, in the kind of aimless way that most parents are just not at leisure to do. And I had consumed a huge Chinese takeaway and a couple of rum and cokes the night before. And I was wearing horizontal stripes.
This weekend, we've also been to a birthday party (where The Baby embarrassed me by doing really stinky pumps every 15 seconds), had a night of very little sleep, and thrown a surprise baby shower for a friend. Which would have worked a lot better if she hadn't been early, and seen me walking towards her mum's house with a bunch of balloons. Oh well. The Baby then proceeded to be clingy and whingey for a while, only cheering up when I gave her a bit of cake, which she promptly smeared on the carpet. I think my friend may be questioning her decision to have one of these creatures...
Today was also Husband's first Fathers'Day, which he got to celebrate by making an omlette for a grumpy, tired child, then having said child whisked away to the baby shower. He is now at work. Oh well, at least he got the gift of a few hours xbox time.
Oh, look at that. It's actually getting late. Damn these light nights, getting me all confused. Night!
This weekend, we've also been to a birthday party (where The Baby embarrassed me by doing really stinky pumps every 15 seconds), had a night of very little sleep, and thrown a surprise baby shower for a friend. Which would have worked a lot better if she hadn't been early, and seen me walking towards her mum's house with a bunch of balloons. Oh well. The Baby then proceeded to be clingy and whingey for a while, only cheering up when I gave her a bit of cake, which she promptly smeared on the carpet. I think my friend may be questioning her decision to have one of these creatures...
Today was also Husband's first Fathers'Day, which he got to celebrate by making an omlette for a grumpy, tired child, then having said child whisked away to the baby shower. He is now at work. Oh well, at least he got the gift of a few hours xbox time.
Oh, look at that. It's actually getting late. Damn these light nights, getting me all confused. Night!
Saturday 19 June 2010
Wednesday 16 June 2010
This Is A Gift, It Comes With A Price...
The Gift - The Baby has slept through for the last three nights. (And it was a case of her staying asleep, rather than me just not hearing her. Husband has confirmed. Unless neither of us now hear her. Interesting thought.) The Price - she has decided that 6.30am is an acceptable wake-up time, and screams through her breakfast. Regular readers and anyone who has ever seen my child eat will know that it is most irregular for her to greet food with anything other than joy. So it is unnerving, as well as extremely tiresome. I don't know what to wish for tonight, a good night's sleep or a peaceful morning. Knowing my luck I will get neither.
Perhaps she is bored of porridge. It occurs to me that I have given her porridge every day for the last 5 months, therefore this may be a reasonable assumption to make. But at 6.30 in the morning I'm pretty much running on auto-pilot: porridgemilkstirmicrowavejamfetchbabyfeedbabycleanporridgeoffbabycleanporridgeoffkitchenfloorkettleonmaketeadrinktea aah, that's better. This cannot go on. Part of my brain knows that I have a young child therefore have kissed a fond farewell to sleeping in until a civilised hour, but it forgets to tell the part that has to get out of bed and function. Bad, Bad Mammy. Must try harder.
Perhaps she is bored of porridge. It occurs to me that I have given her porridge every day for the last 5 months, therefore this may be a reasonable assumption to make. But at 6.30 in the morning I'm pretty much running on auto-pilot: porridgemilkstirmicrowavejamfetchbabyfeedbabycleanporridgeoffbabycleanporridgeoffkitchenfloorkettleonmaketeadrinktea aah, that's better. This cannot go on. Part of my brain knows that I have a young child therefore have kissed a fond farewell to sleeping in until a civilised hour, but it forgets to tell the part that has to get out of bed and function. Bad, Bad Mammy. Must try harder.
Sunday 13 June 2010
Grump Grump Grump Grump Grump
Bleurgh. I'm in a right grump. It's just come over me all of a sudden, possibly because I've had such a nice weekend and now it's over. Boo. The things that I am currently annoyed about include, but are not limited to:
- The kitchen floor. Even though we have swept, hoovered and wiped it at least 5 times since Husband dropped a glass on it the other day, it is still covered in tiny, tiny shards of glass, which refuse to detatch themselves, until they come into contact with human skin.
- That even though I bought expensive, organic Northumberland beef to make The Baby a stew with, it still has the texture of a shoe, and tastes of nothing.
- Those stupid, stupid, stupid horns at the World Cup.
- The fact that I am even blogging about this. In fact, I have just deleted a whole raft of whingeing, becuase no-one wants to read it. It's stupid and pointless and irritating, and makes no-one's life any better, so I will stop.
Friday 11 June 2010
To Sleep, Perchance To Dream..
Thought I'd better dash off a quick post while The Baby has a nap. She's been asleep a while though, so I bet she wakes up any moment. Yes, after 11 months of being utterly and resolutely diurnal, The Baby has now decided she is going to sleep for anything up to two hours every morning. I'm sure it is part of her campaign to keep me unnerved. The girl is an evil genius.
Not that I'm complaining. It's nice to have the peace and quiet after the trauma of the other night. She decided to scream all night, after I woke her up to put her back in her sleeping bag. Baby sleeping bags (for those who are uninitiated into the world of stuff that parents are invited to spend their money on) are marvellous things. They are like a cross between a normal (tiny) sleeping bag, and a pair of dungarees. They zip all around the bottom and one side, and have poppers over the shoulders to keep them on. In theory, this means that you aren't woken up 12 times a night because your child has kicked their blankets off and is cold (you may be woken up 12 times a night for a myriad of other reasons, but sadly, no-one's managed to invent anything to deal with those yet). Baby Houdini over here managed to somehow get out of hers, no idea how. Then when I tried to put her back in, she screamed. So I took her out again, and she screamed.
Anyway, this was going to turn into a long and boring story about screaming all night, but, as predicted, she's just woken up. I'm blogging here, child! Laters x
Not that I'm complaining. It's nice to have the peace and quiet after the trauma of the other night. She decided to scream all night, after I woke her up to put her back in her sleeping bag. Baby sleeping bags (for those who are uninitiated into the world of stuff that parents are invited to spend their money on) are marvellous things. They are like a cross between a normal (tiny) sleeping bag, and a pair of dungarees. They zip all around the bottom and one side, and have poppers over the shoulders to keep them on. In theory, this means that you aren't woken up 12 times a night because your child has kicked their blankets off and is cold (you may be woken up 12 times a night for a myriad of other reasons, but sadly, no-one's managed to invent anything to deal with those yet). Baby Houdini over here managed to somehow get out of hers, no idea how. Then when I tried to put her back in, she screamed. So I took her out again, and she screamed.
Anyway, this was going to turn into a long and boring story about screaming all night, but, as predicted, she's just woken up. I'm blogging here, child! Laters x
Saturday 5 June 2010
There Is No Spoon
Not if The Baby had her way anyway. I have mentioned before how my very uncouth baby likes to suck her food straight out of the pouches, which is really quite embarrassing, but at least it's tidy. Now, however, she has started to take issue at being spoon-fed at all (she's getting so independent, where did my little helpless child go?!). Today she decided she was going to eat with her hands. Not a problem at lunchtime - chicken and bread. Tea, however, was less dandy, as it was mashed-up pork casserole. But bless her, she looked so happy, shoving handfuls of meat into her face (and up her nose, and in her eye). On the plus side, this means that I can have a cup of tea, or possibly even food of my own, while she eats. On the minus side, it means that my baby, and my kitchen, end up looking like they have been caught in a meat blizzard.
Wednesday 2 June 2010
Why I Am Really Bad Mammy!
Can't believe I forgot this one the other day.
Lately, I have quite often woken up in the morning, feeling refreshed and rested, turned to Husband and said, "Oh, she slept quite well, didn't she?"
Erm.
No.
As it turns out, she is not sleeping well. I am. Husband is not. Husband is getting up with her two or three times a night, while I slumber on, blisfully unaware. This feels all wrong and bad. Surely, as a mother, I should be attuned to my baby's every need, be able to discern the tiniest whimper from two miles away, while at a rock gig, in a coma? I am a disgraceful mother, and a disgraceful wife.
I think she made me pay for it last night, though. Husband is on nights, so when she decided to wake up hourly from 2am, there was no-one else to deal with her. However, I can't help but wonder how long she now whinges for before I eventually rouse myself. And thanks to last night, I'm now really tired, so she'll probably have to burn the house down or something to get my attention.
Lately, I have quite often woken up in the morning, feeling refreshed and rested, turned to Husband and said, "Oh, she slept quite well, didn't she?"
Erm.
No.
As it turns out, she is not sleeping well. I am. Husband is not. Husband is getting up with her two or three times a night, while I slumber on, blisfully unaware. This feels all wrong and bad. Surely, as a mother, I should be attuned to my baby's every need, be able to discern the tiniest whimper from two miles away, while at a rock gig, in a coma? I am a disgraceful mother, and a disgraceful wife.
I think she made me pay for it last night, though. Husband is on nights, so when she decided to wake up hourly from 2am, there was no-one else to deal with her. However, I can't help but wonder how long she now whinges for before I eventually rouse myself. And thanks to last night, I'm now really tired, so she'll probably have to burn the house down or something to get my attention.
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