Children Out & About

I commence today’s post with an apology for having shamefully neglected this blog and all seven of my readers…

I can only plead the baby as an excuse, and undertake a more realistic goal of one to two entries a week. With this in mind I will do my best to ensure they are longer, funnier, and more insightful – yes quality over quantity is what I’m going for now at BrutallyHonestMum (for those of you who have interpreted this as justifying less work – well you may be quite right). Now, onto today’s topic:

Disclaimer: with the exception of a very few, the only child I like at all is my own, and bearing that in mind, I feel that having had a child I am marginally more sympathetic to other parents, but still not very patient with random, ill mannered, badly behaved spawn.

During my hiatus from actually writing anything, I have noticed quite a discussion going on in the media and online regarding children and whether or not it is acceptable to bring them out for meals, and further to that, where they should or should not be welcomed.

The two sides to this debate seem to be as follows: The restaurant and café owners and patrons who would prefer the tiny humans did not defile their premises/precious relaxation time, and the parents of said tiny humans who wish to try and undertake something resembling their prior normal life while raising a baby. Both sides present valid points but seem either unwilling or unable to even attempt to understand each other.

While I don’t believe a segregation of those with children from those who are happily child free is a solution, surely somewhere within that extreme is some kind of acceptable middle ground. I have certainly spent the last eleven and a half months trying to find it, and will now share the parameters we go by when considering dining out with our tiny monster – ahem, human.

First I consider where we are planning to go – have we seen children there before, will they provide a high chair if asked (always a good indicator), and what is the general atmosphere like (for instance a noisy bustling venue is hardly likely to be disturbed by a baby enthusiastically slapping the table). My next question to myself will be whether or not it is an appropriate venue for a baby or children full stop. A pub with an outdoor dining area, beer garden or bistro at lunchtime, yes. A fine dining or hatted restaurant at any time of the day – no. A coffee shop for breakfast – yes. And so on. Another thing that must always be considered (in my eyes at least) is the current mood of the blessed child. Is he hungry/tired/cranky/teething – any of these answered with a yes will generally result in the cancelling of said outing, as all of them will probably end in a tantrum right as your meals arrive, and really, if I don’t like him when he’s chucking a wobbly, I do not expect other people who are not his parents to be any more indulgent. On the other hand, when our little cherub is turning on the charm, boy is he good. Cooing at pretty waitresses, drinking his juice and eating his fruit, happily burbling away at Mummy and Daddy and trying ALL of the food. We have been complimented more than once on our little one’s public behaviour, and believe me, he shall continue as he has started. Conversely, the couple of times he has started to act up, we have packed him up and taken him home. I say again, if I don’t like him when he’s misbehaving, why should that be inflicted on unsuspecting fellow patrons?

It would seem that it really is down the parents to exert a level of control and commonsense that would negate maybe not all but a large degree of the complaints currently circulating. I read an article which described a two year old’s spectacular tantrum in the author’s regular coffee haunt, and the parent’s apparent lack of concern and or intervention. When the author mentioned something to his waitress, he was told that although they would like to say something, they dare not for fear of giving offence. The author then decided to say something (contrary to the pleas of his partner) and was treated to a level of abuse that to me seemed excessive. He was accused of intentionally ruining the family’s breakfast, being wilfully anti-child, and finally, judging where he had no right to. All of this was conveyed using very colourful language that I will not repeat here and the point was driven home by the father of the child then giving the author the finger as he exited the café after his wife and child.

As our baby is not yet two perhaps I am in no position to comment on this particular instance, but I do feel the parents were at fault here by failing to attempt either to placate or calm the child, and then reacting with such aggression when they were asked to. They were not asked to leave, just whether or not there was something that could be done to make their daughter happier at that current moment. And yes, I hear you laughing, thinking to yourself “just you wait until your child is two” but I reiterate that I would try to calm him down, and if that failed, leave. All of my own accord. To me that just seems like common courtesy and consideration of my fellow diners.

Having grown up in a household where we were often taken to meals as children, I intend to continue that with my son. He will also learn what we learnt. That nothing short of perfect manners and behaviour are acceptable when in public (and at home too, for that matter) and anything less will result in punishment of some kind. Obviously babies and maybe even some two year olds are unable to understand the concept of consequences, and in those cases perhaps those without children could take a calming breath and acknowledge just how difficult this business of raising them actually is, and the parents concerned could be equally aware of where they take their little bundles, and admit to themselves that perhaps their ‘old life’ is past tense for a reason.

 

But please don’t jump to the conclusion that I am completely lacking sympathy either. I am aware of the effort involved in getting yourself out and about with the addition of a tiny human. As a‘Stay-At-Home-Mum-Under-Protest’ I absolutely feel the lack of what seems like any kind of social life or freedom. As I type this I am currently ensconced in the corner of my favourite local bistro, enjoying lunch and a glass of wine while my husband tackles the grocery shopping with the baby (only three text queries so far – he’s doing well). And while we have previously brought the child to this particular venue, it is much nicer without his presence. To those Mums who manage to make the effort to get dressed, showered, and out for a meal or coffee with their baby, you’ll get no censure from me, and to parents out on the weekend with their child or children, just be mindful that not everybody shares the same view of your beloved baby/child/spawn and that is not a personal attack on you and your life choices, just a differing opinion, no less valid than your own.

TGIF

My apologies for the acronym as a title, but today that sums it up fairly well. Please note that I have used the more family friendly G instead of the F that is often substituted (no need to be crass, after all).

And yes, even for a stay at home Mum, Friday is eagerly anticipated. I may not be going out dancing, or drinking my weight in gin martinis (much) but for me Friday signals the "handing over of the child". Yep, for the duration of the weekend I am off the clock. No dirty nappies, no feeding, play only if and when I feel like it, cuddles only when the baby is happy - I think you get the picture.

If I'm lucky this weekend freedom will include a meal out with a friend, but most often I take pleasure in being able to do the things that having a baby around will sometimes prevent and/or make more difficult, such as:

Paying more attention to my personal hygiene (aka shampooing my hair and moisturising as WELL as having a shower).
Doing all of my outstanding household cleaning (and by Saturday morning there is usually a LOT).
Getting any extra laundry done, including all of my husband's (he's not allowed in my laundry).
Sleeping in until 9AM!
And so on.

I do remember those halcyon days (before baby) where Friday meant a long 'work lunch' followed by office drinks, maybe dinner with friends - or just dinner out with my husband (except back then he was my boyfriend!). Good times. These days the relief of Friday feels so much more profound. There is only so much peek-a-boo babbling nonsense I am able to sustain before I start looking longingly for an emergency exit. My husband is also more relaxed on a Friday. We both seem to know that the balance has now shifted, and while he will be doing all of the baby chores, he also realises it's time to divert Mummy with some intelligent adult conversation - bless him!

In short (and I know this is a shorter post than normal, but I believe I have gotten my point across) even though I have not technically been "at work" during the week, I still look forward to the weekend as my "time off". I have not found being a stay at home Mum easy in any way, and I often think longingly of my office and deadlines and cranky bosses and all of the things my working friends bemoan. Thank goodness I have retained my anticipation of Friday, and the knowledge that Friday signals a lightening of the load sometimes has me wishing it's Friday when it is actually Monday, just like all of my friends dreading their return to the office.

I would like to add a very important footnote - to those Mums out there doing it all on their own - you are HEROES! I honestly do not know how you do it. You should all be regularly lauded and perhaps even included in the Australia Day Honours List tomorrow, just for being single Mums. You are rock stars. 

Birth and Judgement

How many of you had epidurals during your labour?

Am I the only person that finds questions like that posed in a public forum offensive?

My instinctive answer is "None of your damn business". Of course, no one forces anyone to answer these intrusive questions, but judging by the amount of comments I read today, many do. And that, consequently, opened up a whole new forum for all of those ever vocal SMs to judge the Mums who answered that yes, in fact they had had an epidural administered during their labour. The level of abuse people felt willing to hurl at others was staggering, with people on both sides of the debate being very combative and derogatory. Considering this was on Facebook, it demonstrates a surprising willingness (to me at least) for people to take these militant stances and be identified as themselves.

The typical SM stance on this seems to be that by having an epidural/cesarean/drug/gas (read: any assistance whatsoever) you are "denying yourself a wonderful and validating life experience" and/or "missing out on the most life affirming moment a woman can experience" (and yes, those are actual comments made by people on that Facebook page).

I am tired of the viewpoint expressed not only by SMs but various other subsets of the population that having a child is a woman's main purpose and crowning glory. It is not enough for those groups to spout that particular nonsense, they then have to add their opinion on actual birthing criteria. I am sure there are many women out there who cannot have children, as well as women who choose not to have children who roll their eyes at the small mindedness of these assertions. I have enjoyed what I feel are many wonderful life experiences, and quite a few not so wonderful. I don't view either the good or bad as "validating". I do not have to validate my life to anyone. There is no one thing or experience that validates me. They are all parts of the whole. If having this kind of confidence in myself is what is lacking in those who look to their babies to "validate" them then I can only feel pity. My sense of self worth was hard won, but evidently, 'worth' it.

What I find decidedly unpalatable about this topic is that is isn't just the SMs that will either judge or applaud you for your choice (should you be foolish enough to discuss it). Women who have not had children and even some men are quite willing to beat you over the head with their opinions on the subject of "Natural vs. Assisted Childbirth". To those childless women and idiotic men, I say this: Get pregnant, go into labour, and we'll discuss it then. Provided you have demonstrated that you do have the brains and wherewithal to defend your end of the debate. If actually experiencing a birth changes your viewpoint completely; Well. Imagine that.

When asked by my obstetrician whether or not I had a "birth plan" I said that considering he had delivered roughly one thousand children and me a grand total of zero, my "birth plan" was to do whatever he instructed me to that would result in a safe labour and the birth of a healthy baby. He seemed inordinately pleased by this, and now that I have had a baby and been exposed to all of these opinions and judgements, I understand why.

Seeing as I broached the subject, I will answer the question. Yes, I did have an epidural. They are hard to avoid when you are compelled to have a Cesarean due to pregnancy complications. I will now admit that had a Cesarean not been medically indicated, I would have elected to have one. That is my privilege as a private patient, and a realistic admission of the fact that the mere thought of giving birth scared the living daylights out of me. And for the record, no, I do not feel as though I "missed out" on anything at all. I "missed out" on bleeding to death and having my baby die too (as those were the risks posed by a "natural" labour) so my heartfelt thanks to my obstetrician, and when I look at my baby I'll just be content that we're both here.

And however your baby arrived, whatever you needed to have that happen safely and with minimum risk and pain to both of you, you may rest assured that I, at least, do not judge you.

Boredom

Yes, I'll say it. Being a stay-at-home-Mum is BORING. And not just boring, but repetitive, mundane, monotonous, tedious, prosaic, stultifying, and so on and so on ad nauseum, et infinitum.

I am intelligent, well educated, articulate, and going mildly stir crazy. I asked a close friend the other day (to whom we shall refer as K - and no, he is not an agent with Men In Black, although I'm sure he'd like to be) if this was really it for me. If after beating cancer (twice) and overcoming serious injury whilst obtaining both undergraduate and postgraduate qualifications on the way this really was to be the sum of my life.

K, bless him, pointed out that the some of the most wonderful things in life are unplanned, and while I could say with honesty that I hadn't particularly wanted children, having one of my own was pretty extraordinary given the circumstances. K of course is right, and restrospectively asking him that question was really quite insensitive of me, as he longs for biological children but is unable to have them. So I removed both feet from my mouth, thanked him for his love and support, but still wondered.

I have no illusions about the fact that my life is now and always will be different. No more for me the selfish lifestlye of a DINK (double income no kids). And while that is ok to a certain extent, I would like to be able to retain just a little of my prior life's self involvement. For example, still walking around in maternity clothes when your child is eleven months old is NOT OK. I am happy to provide for my child everything he needs, but I do find it difficult not to begrudge the fact that a great deal of that comes at a cost to me.
And I'm not just talking the material things either. I can remember the last time my husband and I sat down to a meal out together, in a nice restaurant, just the two of us. Exactly eleven months and one day ago. That's right, the night before the blessed child was born.

Another friend, G, recently visited and marvelled at the fact that the repetitive and routine nature of my day had not already driven me completely up the wall. Rest easy G, I'm only halfway there, chewing on the doorframe.

The average day goes like this:

5:30am - Husband awakes to change and feed baby. Attempts to settle baby before leaving for work. Baby refuses to settle. I get up and play with baby.
8:30am - Change and feed baby. Attempt to settle after cereal. Fail. Play with baby.
9:30am - Offer baby watered down juice and a biscuit. Attempt to settle baby - Success!! Creep around for next forty minutes to an hour hoping not to disturb baby. Read book, watch rubbish on television.
10:30am - Change baby. Play with baby until lunchtime.
12:30pm - Change baby. Feed baby. Clean up food baby has smeared everywhere. Play with baby (perhaps with rubbish television on in background) for next hour or so.
1:30pm - Attempt to leave baby in playpen and have a shower. Shower in 90 seconds flat while baby screams house down.
2:30pm - Put baby in highchair. Play iTunes and sing and dance way through washing up to keep baby amused.
3:00pm - Leave baby in playpen and ignore screams whilst sneaking down to the laundry to put a load of washing on.
3:30pm - Change baby. Attempt to settle baby for afternoon nap. Fail. Endure overtired baby screaming and generally being unhappy for the next two hours, all the while attempting to placate him with every toy he owns, silly dances, cuddles, visits from neighboring children etc. Alternatively, if baby settles, hang out washing and put another load on.
5:30pm - Change baby, put in sleeping bag. Feed baby. Put baby down for the night after passing out with bottle still in his mouth. Creep back down hallway and spend next hour nervously listening for sounds of stirring.
6:00pm - Hang out second load of washing. Start dinner. Open beer/wine/cider/whiskey enjoy with Valium if necessary.

And, REPEAT. God help me if I need to squeeze in an errand, phonecall, or otherwise unscheduled event.

People wonder why grocery shopping every weekend is the highlight of my week. Perhaps after reading this, they won't. And despite the SMs out there shaking their heads at me in judgement, I do feel that there is more to me than this, I do aspire to more, and once the blessed child is in daycare at least three days a week, I will figure out what I can do that suits my new family schedule but still fulfills my intellect and sense of purpose, and pursue it with abandon. Will I miss being around my child all day, every day? Probably not, but if I do, that will only make the time we spend together that much more fun. Balance people, it's all about balance.

Bad Days

So one of my major issues with all of the SMs out there is that they completely deny the existence of Bad Days. Conversely, if an SM deigns to admit to having a Bad Day with her baby, she will then declare that "the good days make up for the bad".

Sorry ladies, not for me they don't. Babies are nothing if not changeable creatures, and unfortunately my young man's Bad Days are very bad, and currently outnumbering his good days.
Note to Husbands: Point out that the child is behaving well on the weekend while you are present at your peril - that is purely because there are now two of you to entertain the little sod.

I will now list the behaviours that I'm sure lots of other Mums have encountered, that I find really difficult to cope with, and that make me thankful my baby is in fact, quite cute.
Side note: I am aware lists are lazy writing, such is life after an horrific day with an eleven month old.

1. Suddenly deciding that the food he has previously ravenously consumed just doesn't cut the mustard anymore, and demonstrating this with a full blown tantrum (screaming, tears, batting away the spoon, smearing food everywhere, choking on food, spitting food at me).

2. Not wanting to go to sleep, and working himself up to the point where NOTHING calms him down. And I do mean NOTHING.

3. Discovering that he can undo his nappy, and then proceeding to smear the contents of said nappy all over himself.

4. Deciding that there is no better way to pass the time than scream, loudly, piercingly, and for no apparent reason.

5. Throwing everything within his reach at me, and then screaming when I refuse to return said items and be pelted again.

So now that I look at it, the list isn't actually that long (or perhaps I am just too tired to accurately remember anything else). Nevertheless, those are the times where I do wonder if there's somewhere I could leave him, just for a week or so to recover some of my equilibrium. I am always amused when friends without babies say they would take him, and if I thought they meant it I would gladly hand him over. Unfortunately I know I would receive the inevitable "please come and take possession of your demon child" call within twenty four hours.
Friends with children don't make that offer, and that's because they KNOW. They are aware that the relative cuteness of a miniature cherubic looking person does not balance the equation when said cherub transforms to 'He Who Shall Not Be Consoled', and while they sympathise, they are too busy dealing with their own tiny terrorist/s to want to relieve me of mine.
SM will pipe in with her usual platitudes and unwanted 'advice' but she will not offer to look after him for me either, convinced that these very normal tired, cranky baby behaviours are undoubtedly the fault of my sub-par parenting. SM will also tell herself that her baby having tantrums is just 'high spirits' indicating her child's either above average intellect or artistic bent. Were I foolish enough to voice my wish to temporarily rid myself of my child to SM, she would gasp with outrage before deciding that I am a Bad Mother or suffering from Post Natal Depression, or both. SM you see, knows all, not just about babies, toddlers and their development, but she will hold forth about how Mothers should feel, behave and react to their offspring.

Well fine, this 'Bad Mother' is contemplating posting an eBay ad: One eleven month old male baby. Slightly used condition, some teething, but otherwise aesthetically pleasing. Bid now or all offers considered.

Sleep

I will admit I was a touch over-confident about my ability to deal with midnight feeds, early morning feeds, lunch feeds, afternoon feeds, changing, bathing, washing (well you get the idea) and sleep deprivation. Citing my previous experience hand-raising orphaned animals, and my habitual insomnia I actually said "Missing out on sleep won't be a big deal for me".

Cue the derisive laughter - I deserve it.

I was told many things by other mothers, here are a few samples: (and in italics, the things I thought in response but did not say)

"I haven't slept properly in five years!"
That's terrible, but also marginally unbelievable. If you are telling the truth perhaps you should have considered what having children close together would actually BE like before just diving right in for the next one...

"My baby slept through from her first night and continued to do so"
RUBBISH

"Get as much sleep as you can now, you'll need it"
Sure, because sleep is something you can store up for a 'rainy day' - moron.

"Babies are the death of sex as well, you'll be too tired and only want to sleep"
Liar! you have three kids so you obviously did it again at LEAST twice after baby #1, and if you always want to pick sleep over sex, you're doing it wrong.

Nevertheless, here I am thinking being up all night won't be too bad, as that is what I'm used to - even having a full time job I've dealt with insomnia and managed (what I thought) was a passable performance at that job.

Nothing prepared me for the all encompassing zombie-dom that ensues. Condescending "advice" from other mothers never quite delved into the weariness that penetrated into my bones, and the absolute certainty that I was unable to cope with what was happening and what I needed to do. The dawning realisation that the days were as difficult as the nights was also mildly horrifying. Helpful comments such as "I know what you're going through, and I promise it does get better, they do sleep more" just enraged me. What I needed was rest, not platitudes, someone to offer to take the baby for one night (or day) so I could just sleep!

Emerging out of that tunnel was the biggest relief of my life to date. When that little boy started sleeping from 10pm to 5am I felt as though I'd hit the jackpot. It turned out those well-meaning advisors were right, things did indeed improve eventually. Unfortunately when I was in it I wanted an immediate fix - and patience not being amongst my virtues, having to just weather those first few months really did make me despair that anything other than that routine would become the norm.

One thing I have observed amongst the SMs (that's Smug Mothers for those who have not read my first post) is that they seem to either overstate their child's sleeping habits, or take credit for them if they are good. I do concede that establishing a routine seems to be the way to go with this, but when I complain of my child's intransigence when it comes to his morning or afternoon nap, SM will expound her own methods of getting her child to sleep, whilst at the same time implying that I am either doing the wrong thing completely in my attempts to settle my baby, or, if my method happens to be the same as hers, I am not executing it correctly. She will then 'helpfully' give me 'tips' whilst I zone her out completely and start daydreaming about that shower I'm going to have later - maybe even shampoo my hair. Ahhhhhhhhhh.

The reality that I have discovered (and I really believe that it is different for each baby - unhelpful, but I have no pretences to writing a 'Mothering Advice Blog') is that my son will some days skip either one or both of the daytime naps he is 'supposed' to be getting. Skipping his morning nap will usually result in him passing out completely after he has had his lunch and a drink, and skipping his afternoon nap makes him scream from about 3:30pm right up until 5pm when I finally give up and jam that bottle into his mouth. When he skips both it is horrendous, and it gets to the point where I just look at him, completely exhausted, and ask him what he needs. He will either giggle or cry, and on those days, once he has finally had his bottle and crashed (there is no other word for it, even the phrase 'passed out' does not accurately describe the rapid descent into sleep a day of no naps will occasion) I will open a beer/cider/bottle of wine/bottle of whiskey (really whatever is handy) survey the wreckage that is my house and wish my life were different.

Sleep and babies evolve together I think. My son is almost eleven months old, and after spending the last few months sleeping the whole night through we are back to once or twice a night wake ups thanks to the vagaries of teething. I can only comfort myself by acknowledging this is just another phase, realising that he does not do it on purpose is key, and I don't really care what all the advice columns/articles/blogs/books tell me to do. When it is 1am and my child is screaming with pain, I will pick him up, cuddle him, give him Panadol, apply the topical gel straight to his gums, and make up 120mls of formula so he can comfort feed his way back to sleep while we rock in the chair together. Platitudes about 'self-soothing' be damned, if he's in pain all attempts at making him try and 'self-soothe' are worthless.

When it comes to sleep, my baby, and me (and my husband) I will do whatever works for us. And since the little cherub has decided to have his morning nap today (giving me time to finish this post) I am going to take myself off to bed with a book - washing up be damned!  

First Entry

After a bit of thinking, discussion, and conjecture with friends and family, I have decided to create this blog. If you were to ask me my chief aim in so doing, I would reply that I am heartily fed up with all of those Smug Mums out there (who will from now on be referred to as SMs) who regularly use expressions such as:

"Raising my child/ren is an absolute joy twenty-four hours a day"

"My child/ren is/are the most important and validating thing I have done with my life"

"There is nothing as amazing as my child/ren and I will always love them forever no matter what"

"Being a parent is the most profound/wonderful thing you could ever experience"

By sharing my "true mothering tales" I hope to offer a perspective different to the cliched nonsense we are consistently subjected to, and give hope to other mothers out there who do not wish to speak up for fear of censure or dismissal. I'll tell it all, and it won't always be pretty.

So here you are, a little bit of me and my truth for your amusement, perusal and digestion. You may not like it, you may think me detached, dispassionate or uncaring. All I can say is that everything I post here will be true. No holds barred, no "politically incorrect" topic left out. Of course I welcome your comments and feedback, but any harassment or abusive contact will not be tolerated. Happy reading!

To get things started for this, my first entry, I would like to share ten things I have learnt in the last eleven months:

1. Yes, my child is very cute, but when he has screamed at me for more than two consecutive hours and will not be held/put down/played with/fed/changed/talked to or calmed in any way, he is NOT my favourite person.

2. Popular theory apparently tell us that women are more "attuned" to babies crying than men. Fine, for argument's sake I'll let that one go. That does not mean that your partner cannot be taught. If he won't get up/respond to/feed etc the baby, either kick him until he rolls out of bed and does it, or declare you are going grocery shopping and leave him to deal with it. Husbands/Partners/Dads will soon figure out which cry is which and what to do about it. Continually repeating yourself will be necessary, but they'll get it. Make the Nursery "Mummy's Provence" at your peril.

3. Baby Brain. To my surprise and displeasure this is not in fact a myth. I have forgotten to pay bills, defrost dinner, eat at all during the day, and at the end of one particularly harrowing week, I realised I had not had a shower in five days. Yep. Five. Days. Forgetting to put something on the grocery list, or leaving the house without the grocery list altogether are also both regular occurrences.

4. I made it 30 years without ever getting vomit in my hair. EVER. I am not that kind of girl. Since the arrival of my son I have shampooed vomit out of my hair four times, and out of the cat once. Clothing, bedding, furniture, rugs and floors have all become acceptable casualties to vomit, but my hair - that will NEVER be ok.

5. The amount of washing for a baby doesn't seem to have demonstrably increased the washing I was already doing, which has led me to conclude two things - the first being that I am more obsessive about clean clothes than most people, and the second being that my husband is just as messy as a baby, and therefore generates just as much dirty laundry.

6. Even people who are not parents are more than willing to judge you and/or give you their unwanted advice and opinions once you are visibly pregnant. This becomes exponentially worse after you actually have the baby.

7. Having spent most of my life with animals of all kinds, and a great deal of my life professionally training horses, I can say that there is some cross over - some of the same principles do apply in different situations. The tone of my voice for example. My baby will stop what he's doing immediately if I say his name in a stern tone of voice, and will also respond beautifully when we are just having a chat. Same deal with my horse/cat/dog. My husband takes it amiss, however, when I whistle or click my fingers to get our child's attention. That, apparently, is "crossing the line".

8. SMs (Smug Mothers) LIE. Yes, in capital letters and all. I am an intelligent, educated person, and if you want me to believe that all is roses and fairies and games (oh my) you are forgetting that I have a baby too, and I KNOW you are full of something with which I could fertilise my vegetable garden.

9. The good moments come VERY close to making up for the difficult hours with my son.

10. Routines are important, it's true (and those near and dear to me do know how a lack of a plan or routine can sometimes send me into a minor tailspin) but babies will lull you into a false sense of security for a couple of weeks, and then change everything entirely. I have attempted to be consistent where I can, (meal times, bed time) but other than that, we just roll with it and do what is necessary. This flexibility has tested my particular brand of obsessive compulsiveness to its absolute limit.