go the #$*! to sleep

You all know the book, right? I thought of it tonight as I stood in the middle of my bedroom, N screaming the house down from her cot, “I NEED A TI-II-II-II-SUEEEE!” the baby wailing in my arms, “WAHHHHH” and Prince Charming knocked out on the couch with gastro. It was — IS — one of those situations where I have to laugh, or I might just end up huddled in a corner.

S has been treated today by my lovely osteo friend, as the breastfeeding was going downhill and tears increasing after each feed. It was like I was given a different baby after she left, I even managed to feed her for 20 minutes on one side this evening! That is a record and up from the two-three minutes she was taking at a time earlier today. Turns out the poor little pet has had a really knotted up tummy, which I suspected. If you have a newborn and you’re in doubt… actually, if you just have a newborn full stop, I highly recommend a trip to the osteo. Anyway, maybe the thrill of breastfeeding my baby in a calm and orderly manner has given me the positivity to get through this evening… although I know it’s not over yet.

N drifted off around 7.30pm after I went in and promised to come back after S was in bed (knowing she would most likely fall asleep before then!) S has fallen asleep about 20 times only to wake again a few minutes later. Each time I thought I had her I would go out to the kitchen and shove a few liquorice allsorts in my mouth and go to… heat up my dinner.

WAHHHH!

… stare longingly at my dinner that I cooked at 5.30pm, stone cold and hard on the bench. Walk back into the room, pick her up, rockety-rock. Eyes closed, back in the bassinet, tiptoe out… The fact that half the pack of liquorice allsorts is gone gives you an indication of how many times this was repeated. Two hours later as I type this she is in her rocker next to me, eyes half open, but not quite closed. Pretty much time for the next feed now. The good thing is she has been settled long enough for me to eat my dinner. Steak sandwich, minus the sandwich. The bread had gone crusty on the bench by the time I got to it.

Night all xo

* * * * *

Update, 10 minutes later: Aaaaand now I’m covered in spew. The baby’s, that is, not Prince Charming’s. That would really be something to be upset about.

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One thought on “go the #$*! to sleep

  1. Pingback: mid week | motherwho

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