I remember saying that if I didn’t watch out and make a point of getting out and doing things, my blog entries would revolve primarily around eating, sleeping and pooing. True to my word, I did not get out and do anything hence today’s blog revolves primarily around sleeping, pooing and eating.
I have come to realise that babies quickly lull you into a false sense of believing you are in control. You create a routine; you stick to it for a day or two; the results are promising; meals are eaten, sleep is taken, smiles are smiled. This is easy you think…you just have to stick to The Schedule. The Schedule is now carved in stone. Or at least scribbled out on scrappy bit of notepaper and stuck to the fridge by magnet. And for a day or two more it gets better…we put Grace down, she falls asleep by herself and starts sleeping from 7.30pm to 6am and beyond with no breaks in the middle. We pat ourselves on the back. We’ve cracked it! Then….
…4am this morning and Nicole has fed and changed Grace but still she’s not interested in going back to sleep. As it’s my day at home, I step in and take the restless, wriggly baton and try my baby whispering on her. I try rocking her. I trying cuddling her. I try wheeling her around the dining room in her pram. I try everything again in reverse order, but with slightly less enthusiasm and more than slightly more desperation. Just at the point of giving up…although clearly giving up is not an option so it was more like, just at the point of seeking out mummy for help, the pram walking worked it’s magic and Grace was asleep once more. It is now 5.15am. Obviously the thing to do now is to return said Sleeping Beauty back to her crib. However, after all that had led to this point, if you think that I was going to risk moving her at this point, you are much mistaken. So I make sure she is strapped in, and try my best to sleep with no blanket, squished up on a small sofa, in the cold. Grace manages it far better than me and come 7.30am, one of us at least is well rested and in a good mood.
In the space of the next two hours some internal gremlins get working on Grace’s inner workings, and I am left changing nappy after dirty nappy. Which wouldn’t be so bad, but the nappies seem unable or unwilling to hold their contents, and so each nappy change is accompanied by an outfit change. Which wouldn’t be so bad, but Grace likes pacing things so just as we’ve got one nappy off, and are thinking that we’re on the home run, she wees everywhere. If you’re lucky, this is all mopped up quickly and it is a minor inconvenience. The truth is, we are not all lucky all of the time. All over the new nappy, her back, in her hair, onto the carpet, on my jeans, into the new clothes I have just placed her in. If you’re lucky, it will be just one of these things. But as we know, we are not all lucky….
Grace is certainly getting more communicative recently. If your idea of communication is squealing at a pitch likely to cause damage to bats and dogs, and a volume, if measured in decibels per kg, louder than nearly any other sound known to man. It seems to be mainly used as a way of signalling, I am here, and I am now ready to be the centre of attention. Woe betide you should she catch you still looking at your mobile phone or iPad. Woe betide your ears. It is also a signal for I am Bored, Entertain Me. Or, I Am Not Finished, Continue Entertaining Me. At least the teething thing appears to have subsided though, with the sudden recent appearance of two tiny tooth stubs. This has instantly led to mummy buying toothpaste, a toothbrush and issuing instructions for me to brush twice daily. Assuming I can even find them I guess… At least the whole issue of to medicate or not can be postponed for another day. From the absurd, new-agey Amber Beads, through the dubious teething granules to the short-lived, and messy to apply gel, up to the actual pain reducing Calpol, there is a whole range of options for the caring parent, to help their little one through the pain of having teeth. I can’t remember the pain of teething myself, but I can readily recall the pain of teeth at other times in my life, so I’m happy to reach straight for the proper stuff at the first tingling of toothache. I recognise this is not the only view in the house however, so I am a bit more ready to try some of the less effective remedies first…
On the food front, Baby Led Weaning continues apace. Sat down with Grace for breakfast to eat our toast together…or suck it at least. We returned to the fray at lunchtime with a shared bowl of pasta with pesto and cream cheese. I admit this was pushing the boundaries a little, but was definitely appreciated. Indeed, Grace had to be physically dragged away from it in the end. Mainly due to a pressing need to effect another nappy change. Finally we came back to the table at 5.30pm to expore the oaty delights of the dubious sounding, home-made, porridge fingers. These went down the best yet! Down Grace’s front, down my leg, down the chair. I put a little cream cheese on the end of one, and before I knew it, it was in her eye. Literally. Good job, bath time was now upon us.
…it didn’t take me long standing over the bath tap waiting for the hot water to realise my wait was going to be in vain. Our boiler has a bit of a history, though to be fair for the last six months it has pretty much behaved. However, it was now not heating the water, nor indeed, heating the house. Poo, I thought, not for the first time today.
The Day’s Stats:
Music Education: Rapture/Tide is High – Blondie Temptation – Heaven 17 Fascination – Human League (okay, it was an Absolute Radios 80’s day…guilty pleasure!)
Distance walked: 2.31 miles around the village …. new pb of 44.41
Baby visitors: 1 (Heath plus mum, Kelly)
Baths: 0 (on account of the boiler breaking down)
Minutes snoozed: None
Meals at Table: 3