Bad things happen in threes, but good things still abound

It’s not even hump day as I write and already I’m feeling depleted. I know it goes with the territory as a new mum but this week has been particularly irksome. Monday didn’t start well as I ended up wading through a pool of water in the early hours to make a feed for Sonny. Every available clean and dirty towel was on the kitchen floor, while the water had to be turned off. Not ideal when you’ve bottles, dishes and laundry baskets brimming with clothes to wash. Luckily, it was an easy fix for the plumber and normal service resumed – until the Tommee Tippee machine threw a strop. Now, this is akin to hell when you’ve a hungry, screaming baby.

Please no, not the Perfect Prep!

Thankfully, hubby wasn’t too far away. “What do I do?!” I wail, having depended on this magic machine for four months. “Try turning it off,” he offers. I do this, seems to work for most things, and hallelujah – it does the trick. However, it’s still playing up. I call the Tommee Tippee helpline and the female voice tells me to shake the machine. Odd, but okay. I do shake it, and enjoy the feeling it gives me and refrain from hurling it across the room. Sadly, it’s still not working properly so I’m going to have to read the bloody instructions on the pack to make it myself, aren’t I? No way. I call again. The helpful and understanding lady agrees to send me out a new one, convinced I’m not trying to wangle a freebie. Sonny is gurning in the background, that must have done it.

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Sad times...

Money’s too tight to mention.

They say bad things happens in threes. I also got a bill asking for money I don’t have. The only money I have goes on baby stuff, coffee and wine. So, you can join an orderly queue.

It’s not all bad…

I’m feeling a little better now I’ve that got the above off my chest. and there’s been lots of adorable moments with my little one to savour. Like when Sonny shrieks with glee when he sees me, or puts his tiny little hands around my neck while I jiggle him about. I turn to a sentimental blob of jelly when I watch my hubby use Sonny as a human weight while doing squats. Sonny loves it, grinning widely at me as I sit on the sofa, typing this. It’s as if to say, “Daddy is so much cooler than you mummy.” He’d be right. I still don’t feel like myself, whatever that is. I don’t even know that girl, the one I was before Sonny. My life before him doesn’t seem to matter, what does is the present and the future. My sister says I am a lot more “present” since Sonny came along. That’s a lovely thing. I’ve spent so much of my life never really being in the moment, always in my head, ruminating, analysing, fretting. In this age, where people live their lives on social media, being in the present is everything. It makes you grateful, and thankful for everything and everyone in your life.

Right, that felt like a therapy session. Is it wrong to have a glass of wine?!

Teething, tantrums and turds – another month of manic motherhood

Four months of motherhood and every day is a school day. My darling Sonny is no longer a tiny baby, only waking for feeds and to get his smelly little bottom changed. Now, he wants to be entertained – constantly. He’s not usually a tough audience and sometimes even the sight of me elicits a squeal of delight (or horror if it’s 5am). As wonderful as this journey is, it’s not without its challenges. At a tender age of 19 weeks, Sonny is preparing to, err… cut his teeth.

Last weekend, I met a lovely new mummy friend for lunch. I had expected this to be a relaxed, giggle-filled afternoon while our two babies and we bonded. With a glass of mummy medicine in hand (Prosecco obvs), we exchanged funny stories and anecdotes on being new mums. I fed Sonny, hoping I’d be able to place him in his buggy while I tucked into a steak sandwich. I was starving having forgone breakfast in a bid to get out the door in time for the bus. Now, ordering something which requires both a knife and fork is crazy if you have a little one, especially as you’re on call should your tiny boss require your undivided attention. As I jiggled Sonny on my knee, I wolfed a few chips while my sandwich got cold. I didn’t mind so much, thinking he’s due a kip. How wrong was I?! He opened his lungs and proceeded to wail, scream and ball. My cheeks burned as I felt other diners’ eyes bore into me. Meanwhile, my friend’s little one was the picture of contentment. There was nothing else for it but to make a speedy exit. My friend was so lovely, understanding my plight. But, when it rains it pours, and that’s exactly what it was doing. With Sonny still hollering, I hastily pulled on the rain cover, and made my way to a coffee shop where I figured I’d try and appease my poor baby with a bottle of milk. As luck would have it, two girls I used to work with noticed a frazzled me trying to push my buggy up the step into the shop and helped me. I joined them while I fed my little red-faced man and they made me feel at ease. I’ll always feel grateful for their smiles that day when all I wanted to do was cry. It’s so horrible when your baby is upset – you feel a mix of panic, helplessness, even guilt.

The drama wasn’t over. My husband who picked me us up from town informed me that the cat did a massive turd on our new hearth. I screamed at the cat and took my sucky mood out on my husband. “I didn’t have a great day either you know!” He grumpily retorts. “You didn’t have a screaming baby to deal with though,” I fire back. “I’d gladly have done an exchange,” he says. What I replied to that is unprintable.

As I write this, Sonny is being a dream baby again, busying himself with his toys and giving me big, gummy smiles. “Waaaaa!” Ah shit, spoke too soon.