If it’s in your arsenal…

… is it ok to use the boobs as a comforter?

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Aifric woke up at 1am a couple of days ago and instead of the usual rigmarole of swaying her, rocking her, sitting on her chair, singing 10 green bottles, singing hello to the sun, singing 10 sizzling sausages, lying on the floor with my hand in the cot and ninja-ing my way out of the room only for her to notice I had disappeared and cry again, I just decided to stick her straight on the boob and she was back asleep in less time than a Ewan the Dream Sheep circuit (15 minutes FYI).

But for some reason, in my head, it’s not something I had wanted to do. If she wasn’t hungry then surely I should and I would be able to get her back to sleep another way. Even if that way took an hour and a half. EVEN IF after an hour and a half of the swaying and the rocking and the singing and the lying on the floor I’d just end up putting her back on the boob anyway and EVEN IF I know that always works, AT LEAST I HAD TRIED ANOTHER WAY.

Forget the fact we’d both be shattered the next day. And a little irritable. With matching bags under our eyes, that you could, if you kinda squinted a little, call ‘cute’.

I guess in my head I am worried that Aifric will get used to needing the boob to go back to sleep and that I’ll get used to it… it’ll be an ‘easy way out’. HA, AN EASY WAY OUT. Isn’t that what we’re all looking for in parenthood anyway?!

My other concern – linked to the above concern – is that the boob isn’t going to be around forever for Aifric. I have already cut a couple down and moved onto the bottle. One day… pretty soon… I’ll have them back. And then what? We really will need to find another way to comfort her and get her back to sleep.

I actually had a conversation about this with a woman I bumped into at the park on the weekend. She was in the same boat – her little boy not sleeping at all (I thanked all of my lucky stars that it is only once in a while with A) – and she said she does it too, it’s easier, and she needs to sleep and he needs to sleep so WHAT ARE YA GONNA DO? She actually used the phrase ‘don’t worry, you’re not alone’. Which has to be the most comforting phrase you’ll ever hear as a parent.

Simon is super chill about it – if we can use them, why not use them? The rational voice of a person who does not want to be up for two hours in the middle of the night. Who wants to be bright and breezy the next day. Who enjoys sleeping. And enjoys their baby sleeping.

So I am in this limbo-land. I am in two minds. As I mentioned – I did ‘crack’ the other day. And it did work. And we both did get back to sleep within 15 minutes. And I didn’t count the number of times I had pressed Ewan’s paw (do sheep have paws? Hoof. It’s a hoof. Typing out loud here. Hooooves) to try to work out how many lots of 15 minutes I had been in her room… willing and praying her to go back to sleep. And I didn’t have to ninja my way out of the room, pretending I have a black belt in karate (that’d be cool). And you know what? I have done it again since.

I suppose there is no ending to this blog piece… like many things in parenthood, I am not sure what is right. What did you do? What would you do? What are you doing? Do you bottle feed and do this with a bottle?

Comments on a postcard. Please and thank you.

*PHOTO: the little munchkin not sleeping – and there I am – me, not sleeping either, lying on the floor next to the cot, willing Aifric to sleep

10 things I no longer care about…

… now I have a baby.

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I was thinking the other day, about how my life has changed since Aifric was born. Obviously EVERYTHING has changed. Sure. But in my day-to-day existence what little things do I still care about and what things do I now no longer give a flying monkey sh*t about? I think it’s when I looked in the mirror and saw the state of my eyebrows that I started thinking about this.

There are some things that I will always ALWAYS care about but when writing these two lists, I couldn’t really remember what they are.

10 things I no longer care about…

  1. The state of my eyebrows – sorry pals, it’s true, this is how I am now, deal with it
  2. What goes in the dishwasher – apart from the Tefal frying pan, it’s a ‘free-for-all, chuck it in, hope for the best, we’ll just buy new… whatever if we need to’ kinda vibe
  3. The number of calories in wine – no explanation needed
  4. What glass I drink my gin from – literally any receptacle will do. No. That’s a lie. I will not take it from a thimble. Recently, a pal measured out our gin using the top of her baby’s bottle (the lid can hold up to 50ml). THAT is what I call ‘living the motherhood dream’ my friends
  5. Folding clothes back up beautifully when returning them. Can’t believe I used to do this but I always thought it would help the person at the other end if I folded them nicely. Sorry ASOS, the clothes are just going back in the bag… still folded obvs – GOD, I’M NOT AN ANIMAL – but not ‘shop ready’ folded
  6. Wearing paired socks – there is no time to be wasted on searching for socks that match. Get ’em on, get out the house
  7. Whether you can see my bra – any part of it. Nursing bras are huge, no top can cover them completely, why even waste precious minutes trying?
  8. What milk I use in my tea. Used to always be skimmed. Now I’ll just take it how it comes. Which is never hot but tea is tea chaps and it’s goooood
  9. Wearing shorts in London. These were always ‘holiday only’ attire. Heatwave guys, we’re in a heatwave incase you’re not aware
  10. Whether items of clothing are hung in my side of the wardrobe or Simon’s. It’s a mish-mash now. Neither of us know where anything is. Simon addressed the chaos a couple of days ago. To be fair to him – he’s been patient with it for 8.5 months. To be fair to me – I had a baby. That is the best Top Trumps card you’ll ever get your hands on

 

10 things I still care about…

  1. The state of my fringe
  2. The length of my nails
  3. The number on the volume of the TV – although I must admit I am caring less and less about this
  4. Whether our bed is made up. Messy bed, messy head pals!

So. Turns out that Motherhood and #MatLeaveLife = actually don’t care about so much. Can’t even get to number 5 on the ’10 things I still care about’ list.

I am sure more things that I NO LONGER CARE ABOUT will come up. I’ll keep you posted.

*PHOTOS: semi-beautifully made bed that the little one likes to roll around on. Yes those are my pjs just hanging out on the pillow. REALITY.

I am livid…

… I just knew this would happen.

 

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It was the other morning – when I was taking advantage of shower time without worrying if the crying I could hear was in my head or was reality. (I also hear the noise of Aifric’s jungle gym in my head too).

I had made a vow that I would remember our pregnancy (9 months of nauseous joy) – and our labour (forceps, episiotomy, blood loss – another post for another time). That I wouldn’t be like everyone else – ‘oh you’ll soon forget, nature does that to you, you’ll want another one pretty soon.’

NO! I was going to be different. I would not forget. We would not be forgetting any of that any time soon.

So I was not at all amused when I was lathering up and thought ‘huh. That’s interesting. We could have another baby. Sure’.

I lept out of the shower which was SUPPOSED to be a relaxing and chilled experience. Flung open the bathroom door and shouted at Simon ‘I JUST KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN.’

Simon – bewildered at what he could possibly have done wrong in the very short time between me getting into the shower and leaping out of it in such rage, and in his new-Dad fog looked at me uncertainly ‘whaaat?’

Rant ensues. All of the above. I was going to be different, I wouldn’t let myself forget. Etc etc etc. Blah blah blah.

But it’s true. Apparently it’s a thing. I haven’t entirely forgotten everything about that year. I haven’t forgotten vomiting into a Sainsbury’s bag in Leicester Square or running to the toilet just before interviewing David Baddiel. I certainly haven’t forgotten using up all my emergency carrier bags and vomiting into an empty breadstick box on the tube (FYI – not waterproof but my aim was ON POINT). Nor have I forgotten the fear I felt during labour when that emergency button was pushed and 15 people ran into the room to get Aifric out. But a switch did flick in my head. I could literally* see it flick.

But whilst nature may be playing tricks on me, let’s hold our horses… there are a few things I’d be keen to do before the light fully comes on… namely run more than one mile and drink a lot of gin.

 

*Apologies to Simon for using the word literally incorrectly. Although the Oxford English Dictionary does state that I can use the word for emphasis rather than being actually true.

**PHOTO: hanging with the hilarious little lady that makes me want to do it all over again.

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