A letter to Freddie

Dear little boy,

In the early hours of tomorrow morning you will be 18 months old …  a whole year and a half in the world. On the one hand it seems like yesterday – I still yearn to press rewind and relive it all again …. yet on the other, I cannot imagine a time when you weren’t here. How much fun we’ve had and how much you’ve grown. I find it very strange that if you’re reading this one day, you won’t remember any of the things we’ve done in the past 18months. Of course, Momma knows that nothing is wasted and that everything you’ve seen and felt and done has contributed to the vivacious happy little boy you are today. I’m so proud of you, and I don’t think I’ll ever truly believe you’re mine …. I’m such a lucky momma.

Today we collected Percy Pickle kitten, our first pet; and you were very excited about playing with him. Momma has had to teach you to be gentle when you pick him up, and to let him sleep when he needs to sleep … but before we came to bed you gave him your Iggle Piggle, and I hope you grow to be good friends. I think it’s important children grow up with a pet; and Percy Pickle will be a buddy to get up to mischief with! Please don’t eat the cat food though darling …

We’ve just had a lovely week away with your friend Atticus and his Mummy to Bluestone in Wales. It was a real joy to watch you play together and learn from each other. Whilst Atti picked up your very sweet and constant “Momma Momma Momma”, you learnt to say “tractor”, or “Tacdaw” as you so cutely put it. You’ve made sandcastles on the beach, eaten sausage and chips by the sea, seen lots of animals at Folly Farm, and had a blast swimming in the Blue Lagoon with your new arm bands. You had a really fun time, and Momma’s a little sad that it’s back to work tomorrow ….

Sometimes I lie here watching you sleep at night, stroke your little face, and hope that I’m getting this parenting business right. I want to be a gentle, fun mum … I want to say yes as often as I can; and I don’t want to be a shouty nag. You’re a good boy, Freddie Worthington-Phillips … and you light up my world.

Eighteen months …. from my 7Ib 9oz newborn, to my little boy … just think of all the adventures we have to come. But now, my dear one, your Momma is going to snuggle down beside you [at 20.25] because quite frankly I’m exhausted! Can’t take the pace these days …

Lots of love,

Momma x

Home sweet home

It is 9.06am and my son is still fast asleep beside me. This never happens; but it has been hot, and we’ve had a busy few days. I’ve just made myself a cup of tea, and as I walked to the kitchen, the sun casting pretty patterns on the tiles – I was reminded how much I love our home. In October I will have lived here for 2 years [which means I’ve already been blogging for 2 years …], and it is lovely to see these four walls develop into a family home …. the type and size of toys changing, the evolution of photographs on the walls … and the pitter patter of toddling feet along the hallway. It is happy, bright and lived in. There is always more I would like to do to it, but Flat 7 has always felt like home, and moving here was such a good decision. How fast time has gone, since I sat with a huge Freddie bump on the Chesterfield [in a much tidier and sparse lounge] trying to imagine what life would be like post partum; since I sobbed in the shower wondering if I could do it all. Then of course it was here where I brought my newborn in his moses basket, squishy and gurgling. This modest flat has provided for me, for us; a security, our own little haven; and I don’t think I will ever want to leave … the memories here have been the best of my life … and ones I will cherish forever and tell Fred about when he’s older.

Perhaps I’m in a philosophical mood, ignited because my beloved father is embarking on his 4th week  in hospital. It raises so many emotions; watching a loved one suffer; having to trust other people to fix them, and dealing with the reality that life is fragile, unfair, and short. There has been a heaviness these weeks; that Dad can’t be with us to enjoy the little things. Life isn’t as joyful when he’s not home. I’ve spent time in hospital myself, and the days are long. I’m hopeful that this week we may have a plan … but it has certainly provoked a lot of thinking and sadness, knowing my dear Dad is so poorly and that there is very little I can do to help him. We take our health forgranted ….

I’ve held Fred a little tighter, a little longer, recently …. ever aware of how quickly he is becoming a little boy. There are no words to describe the love for this little chap; the surge of protection, and the pride at the cheeky faced fun loving boy he is. I can’t imagine a time when he wasn’t in my life; and still pinch myself that he’s mine. How on earth did I unintentionally create something so utterly wonderful? I’m sure all parents think the same … but it’s the motherhood miracle which I’ll never quite get my head around. Sure, some days I’m pushed to my limits and long for bedtime, but when bedtime comes, I sit looking at my sleeping boy and forget about the housework which needs doing.

It’s now 6.30pm, and another Sunday is nearly over. My baby is once again sleeping peacefully beside me. I hope one day he looks back with good memories on his childhood, and remembers this home as a fun filled loving place to grow up. I want to get this right; and I feel the time is slipping through my fingers like grains of sand. I just brought a newborn home, surely?! Oh Freddie, you give me so much, and I’m loving watching you develop and grow … it’s great, this adventure.

Call the Midwife

This morning I awoke to a smiling Freddie planting a sloppy kiss on my nose. After he threw his toast around the kitchen whilst I made lunches and a [decaf] coffee, we snuggled on the sofa in our PJs for half an hour of  CBeebies before it was time to get dressed and begin the day. Sometimes that half an hour is a manic one of Fred bashing mega blocks against the coffee table in time to RaRa the Noisy Lion. This morning he cuddled into me, and once again I was overcome by the tsunami of love which renders everything else unimportant … which is mesmerised by the life I created, the speed at which he is growing and developing, and in awe at the amount of love my heart contains for him. I still have to pinch myself and probably always will … [note to self: must not become embarrassing mum]

Today Freddie is 14 months old .. and it’s also International Day of the Midwife. I doubt there has been a day these past 14 months when I haven’t remembered Freddie’s birth and the people involved in it. If you’re a die hard blog reader, you’ll know that I had a natural water birth, exactly as I’d wanted, not even a whiff of gas and air, and even a second degree tear was perfectly stitchable. It goes without saying that it was the best day of my life, but that doesn’t quite do it justice; it was empowering, it was the birth not only of my son, but of Verity the mother … the Verity who left behind her hedonism and impulsiveness … and became entirely focussed on the little boy who shot from her vagina into the birthing pool at 4.39am on 5th March 2015. It was so affirming, so powerful … and so overwhelming. My body actually knew what to do; and I could still tell you every detail – from the tuna sandwich I was eating on the antenatal ward, to the shade of my nail varnish, and the “Hits of the 90s” CD we found in the birthing room which we listened to for a while [although we turned it off before things got properly heated, as I didn’t want Fredders born to East 17] … It was beautiful; there was laughter amidst the agony, and I will always be so grateful to those who were around the birthing pool offering support and companionship on the journey to becoming a mother …

I’ve recently begun volunteering as a breastfeeding friend on the postnatal ward at the hospital where Fred was born. Being back there reminds me of that first night, exhausted, hot, yet wide awake, looking with wonder into the crib beside me. Even the fear I was bleeding to death didn’t take away from the complete euphoria. I remember saying to him “we’re going to have so many adventures, you and I” … and here we are, 14 months on, chalking them up.

Every single day I’m grateful I decided to go it alone. Motherhood is exhausting, challenging, frustrating and messy … but I wouldn’t swap it for the world. I still hanker to relive it all …. to go back to the birthing pool and see that wrinkly little wailing face one more time. Beside me is a sleeping Elmo-pyjama-wearing Fred, hot and bothered, snoring, teething … 14 months in the world …

 

Somebody’s not in bed … and it’s not Iggle Piggle

I remember having a conversation about sleepless nights when I was pregnant. “Oh, I won’t mind the early starts” I said enthusiastically to a colleague with two small children [sorry Julia, mea maxima culpa] – “I’m used to getting up early“. Graciously she smiled; the smile I now smile when anyone complains of being tired. This, ladies and gentleman, is a Blog about sleep deprivation … and it won’t be long because I have a sleeping baby beside me, and I fully intend to join him once I’ve aired my yawns …

I’ll start off by saying that today hasn’t been the best. Never mind what seems like ISIS waging a brutal attack in my uterus [come on hormones, get over it], or the motherfuckingmolars which are giving Fred grief [why can’t babies be born with a full set of cut gnashers? Why? Why?] – last night was the worst in a long time. Freddie has never been a good sleeper. I think the most he has ever slept in a row is 5hours, and that was a long time ago. We co sleep because it is easier to whack a boob out in a haze of tiredness, than it is to get out of bed and walk to another room. I am so tired by 7pm that I have no energy to fight the “sleeping in the cot” battle. In many ways I love co sleeping; I think it’s a very natural way to nurture a child – and it’s not like I’ve got anyone else sharing my bed at the moment. The usual routine is, after In the Night Garden, we go to bed, and F is always asleep by 7.30pm. If I can manage it, I set 9pm as my bedtime … domestic chores and energy willing. Rock n Roll eh. For the past week, the first wake up has been around 11pm. I dread looking at the clock in the early hours – yet nearly always do – I mentally count how many hours until my alarm, and dread how many more disruptions there will be. The real killer is the long 1am wake up, when I often actually wake up and find I need the loo or a glass of milk/piece of toast, by which time I’m wide awake and counting sheep – or mulling over pointless dilemmas which always seem so much worse at that hour. Sometimes I find myself pleading with F to go to sleep … please darling, please go back to sleep … please …. Sometimes I swear.

My darling little boy doesn’t seem to need much sleep. He chuckles and thrashes around at 3am; frustrated with a boring momma who is intent on making him return to the land of nod … by 5.30am I have usually given up and am awaiting the beginning of CBeebies with a cup of decaf coffee and wondering how I will make it through the day. The joke this morning was my facebook status [remember, it’s April 1st] proclaiming that Fredders had slept from 7pm until 8am. Some otherwise intelligent souls actually believed it!

The irony is, I’ve never needed huge amounts of sleep – and I’ve never lay in beyond 8am. All I ask is a few hours unbroken kip … please little boy, please …. this persistent lack of sleep is slowly killing me, never mind the huge circles under my eyes. Torture indeed. I can do so much on just 4hours unbroken sleep …. I can be a positive person … I can be productive and hold coherent conversations.

Is there a paron saint of sleep? Anyone?

And please … if your fucking child slept 12 hours straight from 2 weeks old, have the decency and common sense NOT to tell me!

 

Crying, calpol, and one motherf****r of a molar

It has been a long time since I blogged; which is a reflection of the limited time available being a single mum to a crawling/climbing and ever mobile Freddie! The weeks are chugging by, and so many milestones are being reached … wonderful, poignant, exhausting … my little darling now pushes his walker along, and he gets very cross when I prevent him from ascending the bookcase.

Shortly after my last entry I painted a mural in F’s nursery. I love a bit of paint, and it was really good fun to put together this design. I had of course hoped that making the nursery pretty, with new retro cot bed and chest of drawers, and play mat … would entice my son to actually sleep in it … but the little darling prefers sleeping in momma’s bed .. and momma is usually so tired by 7pm that momma lets him snuggle up. One day he will want to sleep in his own room, and one day he WILL sleep through the night … and I’ll probably miss him!

We are currently cutting one motherf****r of a molar. This has led to lots of crying and calpol, rosy cheeks and nasty nappies. Please God, let there be a break between this one and the next. Momma shouldn’t be drinking wine on a school night!

We have recently been to a lot of 1st birthday parties and Freddie’s party is all booked for

5th March 2015 – 5th Feb 2016

5th March … I can hardly believe I have an almost one year old. So much has happened, it has been SUCH an incredible year. A year of so much love and so little sleep … of resilience and determination, and laughter. I still look back fondly on this time last year, when I was enormous and already on maternity leave. Little did I know the adventures that lay ahead. It is such a privilege to watch this darling little boy develop his personality and character. He is of course, worth all the Estee Lauder concealer I’ve needed to purchase to hide the dark circles under my eyes …. 🙂

For now though, at 19.42 on a Monday, I’m enjoying a nice cup of tea ….

The things I didn’t know then

This time exactly 10 months ago, I was dipping my toe into the birthing pool, about to spend an incredible 8 hours breathing, swearing, laughing, pushing, grunting, and finally catching my darling little Fred in my arms. This is the last photo of the bump, taken prior to the filling of the pool. You’ll note I have a sandwich on the bed; even labour doesn’t stop me from eating! 10 months on, I’m sitting in bed as I often am when blogging … Fred is fast asleep beside me, and I’m reminiscing; unable to fully comprehend that it was LAST YEAR. My baby was born LAST YEAR. I look at this photo, at the Verity sitting on the birthing ball in her huge maternity night shirt, and realise there was a lot I didn’t know then …. as my cervix dilated, I was about to begin a huge learning curve into motherhood.

Funny thing is, I thought I was tired when this photo was taken; I’d been in slow labour for two days, and at this point I considered 4 hours sleep in a row very meagre and disappointing indeed. Today I would bite my right arm off for 4 hours sleep in a row!!! I genuinely think it’s amazing how the human body adapts to sleepless nights …

When this photo was taken I had a vague notion that I wanted a natural birth and wanted to breastfeed. I hadn’t written a birth plan because I didn’t think it possible to plan for something which I’d never experienced. I got my drug free birth, and I’m still breastfeeding! I never imagined I’d still be breastfeeding at 10 months [I thought 6 months was a big goal at the time!], and I’m so proud that I’ve managed to continue despite initial setbacks. I never imagined how painful it would be at the beginning, nor how rewarding and fulfilling. My boobs have a purpose, and I think it’s pretty frigging amazing that my body is making milk to feed Fred. He looks good on it too.

You can’t see my nails in this photo but they were immaculately painted because I wanted them to look nice in the first photo. I have probably painted my nails twice since then, once for a wedding and once for christmas … because it’s impossible to let them dry without being disturbed. I’m also now well adept at showering in under 4 minutes. A friend and I joked that applying moisturiser after a shower is now considered a luxury.

When this photos was taken I didn’t know what my Fred would look like, or the immediate and overwhelming love I would have for him. I didn’t know that everything before would blur into insignificance, that life would become totally and beautifully revolved around my little boy. I didn’t know the multitasking involved with motherhood, the growing strength of my biceps as I carry the boy around on my hip … I didn’t even know how to put on a nappy; and I remember being terrified of bathing him in the sink …

I have learnt more in the past 10 months than in the previous 32years put together. I’ve learnt what love really is, I’ve learnt it’s possible to give of yourself when you feel there’s nothing left in the tank … I’ve learnt that the human body is incredible, and that dusty skirting boards can wait …

I would do every last bit again, and perhaps one of the reasons I Blog, is to capture these moments – already too aware how fast time goes, and how quick these babies grow …

 

A year of firsts …

Freddie thoroughly enjoyed his Christmas lunch!

I never realised the little markers I would become emotional about during Freddie’s first year. His first Christmas was genuinely wonderful [the best yet], from the crib service on Christmas Eve where I found a lump in my throat and a sleeping baby in my arms during “Away in a Manger” – to his smiling party hat wearing replenished face on Christmas Day – to his excitement at seeing the hunt off on Boxing Day, his joy at all his new toys – and the realisation that 2015 is nearly over – the beautiful most glorious year of them all – the year when Freddie propelled himself from my vagina and rocked my world. It has been epic, and I can’t wait for the adventures to come … this morning Freddie is with his Daddy, and whilst I had intended to go back to bed and get some much needed, long forgotten SLEEP; I have in fact been a domestic goddess and am only just sitting down with a spot of lunch [which I can eat with both hands woohoo!] and my laptop; awaiting an online grocery order, and the return of my beautiful boy. I’m also busy designing a mural I’m going to paint on his bedroom wall … watch this space!

I dismantled the Christmas tree earlier – which remarkably survived the

Rocking the tweed at the local P2P

crawling babe and his curious hands … as I packed away the decorations neatly into a box, I realised that next year I’ll be looking at the “Freddie’s 1st Christmas” decoration with so many more memories; with no doubt a poignancy that time will still have gone too quickly. Just as this year I’ve thought back to last, when enormous and emotional – I somehow got through it. This time last year I was thinking “in two days time, it will be 2015, and I can finally say my baby will be born this year“. I’m now realising the little cherub will be 10 months old next week, and his 1st birthday looms … how, how, how, is that even possible?

So much has changed in this year; I wonder what on earth I did before becoming a Mummy; where I found my fulfilment without Fred … it has been a year of total overwhelming love, a year of exhaustion and fear, of excitement and courage. It is perhaps the only year of my life I can look back on with pride – with a real sense of achievement – and pride not only in myself, but in my little boy – whose smile and happiness says it all. I still long for the day when he sleeps for longer than 3 hours in a row … but he will sleep eventually … one day … one fine day I shall sleep for 7 hours again …

In the meantime, I endeavour to savour the middle of the night feeding cuddles, and appreciate how lucky I am … to be Freddie’s Mummy …

 

The evening worries of a mother

19.19 – Fulfilling my desire to Blog before [hopefully] some much needed sleep. I haven’t left the flat today; Freddie went on the Santa Express with his Daddy this morning, and I blitzed the housework – two loads of laundry; kitchen, hall and bathroom floors cleaned, shower screen scrubbed, vaccumed everywhere, windowlened the windows, polished everything wooden, rearranged the kitchen, had yet another sort out of Fred’s clothes, and changed bed linen. Oh, and finished wrapping Christmas presents. This literally took me over 3.5 hours, and by the time I sat down to some lunch – it was nearly time for Fred to return. Skirting boards still need attention. Fredders had a lovely time, and arrived home clutching a polar bear toy which he has chuckled at all afternoon. He’s going through a phase of crying when I leave him or he leaves me, which I find really difficult. When his daddy picked him up this morning, he cried with his arms outstretched, and I could hear him crying all the way down the stairs. I could quite easily cry with him when he does this, but I know he stops after a few minutes. The slightly neurotic/sleep deprived part of me worries he’ll be scarred for life by these little upsets, but in my more rational moments I know that it’s just a normal part of growing up. I miss him when he’s not here. I really, really miss him. We had a lovely day yesterday seeing Santa at a local garden centre. The boy smiled and smiled, and enjoyed lunch in the pub afterwards …

I’m tired today. Work was tough last week; we had a couple of really bad nights [lesson learnt; don’t change a nappy at 3am in the dark with no glasses on, as this will lead to a badly put on nappy, which explodes at 4am all over the bed.] – I had some kind of tummy bug one day, and I think having to be out of the flat by 8am four days in a row has made the tiredness even worse. Oh yes, and the whole Christmas thing, trying to remember everyone’s presents and cards and generally make it a beautiful celebration. It’s wonderful, but exhausting. Things seem so much more do-able in the summer with all that vitamin D and light nights.

I think it must go with the territory of being a Mum, that we doubt everything we do, and worry we’re messing it all up. There are so many ideals associated with motherhood [especially around Christmas] – all I want is for my baby to be happy. The only thing important to me from now until eternity, is that I can be the mother my son needs – that he always knows he’s loved and listened to. I want him to have a fun childhood with lots of laughter. Of course, we laugh a lot together already – and the past 9 months have been filled with every possible baby group. In the quiet moments, when Fred’s asleep; I do worry … worry that he will miss out, that I should’ve tried harder with his Dad so to have given him a “conventional” family set up. I worry that I’ll never ever sleep for longer than 4 hours in a row and that this might genuinely send me batty or age me beyond recognition. I worry about being able to provide for him, being able to create those memories I so desperately want to create.

Then I think back to Calcutta and the years volunteering there; to the hundreds of people who queued up on Christmas morning at Shishu Bhavan waiting to be fed. I think of the families at Sealdah station and how they live literally hand to mouth, hour to hour. I realise the two contexts aren’t comparable, but as I have lived in both – I know first hand the temporality. I know that Freddie already has so much more than so many. He is a lucky and loved little boy.

Some days I watch my ever growing boy, and am taken aback at the enormity of the responsibility before me. It is both exciting, and terrifying. I’ve never wanted to get something right more. They say motherhood changes you, but I never quite envisaged how much ….

And now, I REALLY need to sleep …..

 

Novemberitis

My poorly little boy

My mother has an irrational phobia of November; she hates it. Dark mornings, dark nights, cold, dank, etc. I’m always trying to be buoyant about the cosy evenings, hot chocolates and snuggles on the sofa. And Ugg boots! And the”holiday season” Yankee candles. However, I admit that the past days have been VERY Novembery, and I would be very grateful for a plane ticket somewhere sunny for us to escape to.

Little darling Fred has been poorly sick with Bronchiolitis, and spent Saturday night in hospital. I think of all the nights of my life, Saturday was the worst. Freddie has a history of chest infections, and with ezcema too, I do wonder if he’ll have asthma as he grows up. Anyway, I try not to be the neurotic mother fretting at the GP surgery every week. In fact, after being told to judge Freddie’s wellness by how he is in himself rather than the crackles in his chest – I have been rather casual about his wheezes. By last friday, however, we were at the doctors because he didn’t seem his usual self and I felt he was struggling. Early Saturday morning it was a phonecall to 111 as he was pulling his tummy in with every breath, and not a happy or well little boy. I love the questions asked by the poor 111 assessors – had we been to Korea, or better still, an Ebola effected area! Sure love, because Liberia seems such a choice holiday destination with an 8 month old baby!! Eventually we were sent to Out of Hours and seen immediately; and from there we were sent to Worcester hospital, which is about 25 minutes away. Never has that journey seemed so long. This is a bit of a contentious issue as our local hospital was downgraded to a treatment centre when the new hospital at Worcester opened.

There are so many firsts being a mummy, and I hope Saturday was also my last experience of feeing so utterly helpless. It probably won’t be, but Freddie and I are still recovering from our night in hospital. I don’t know how mothers of seriously ill children cope. I hadn’t expected to be sent to Worcester, so was totally unprepared. My phone was on about 40% battery, and I had just my changing bag. When we arrived, there was no phone signal and the free hospital bedside phones only called landlines. It was a hard slog getting in touch with people – having to phone my cousin’s landline to get her to text Freddie’s Dad and other people, to let them know where we were. The staff were brilliant, but it was heartbreaking to see my little boy with an oxygen mask on, wired up to a machine. He is used to co-sleeping with his momma, and looked very troubled at being in the hospital cot. I stood over his cot stroking his hair until a nurse insisted I try and get some sleep around 1.30am. I just wanted desperately to take this from him; for me to be the one struggling to breathe, not my beautiful boy. Worst night of my life.

We were discharged on Sunday afternoon, and have so far had a very lazy week. Today we haven’t left the flat, and Freddie is now fast asleep beside me. He is on the mend, I have an inhaler and steroids for him, and he now has his appetite back. I’m savouring all the cuddles, as we have two precious weeks left of maternity leave left.

Today as a treat I ordered a very stylish Tula toddler carrier, so I can keep my boy close … and use him as a portable hot water bottle when the weather gets cold.

It’s 19.27, and I can’t keep my eyes open. Sleep is good.

 

Don’t grow up too fast baby boy …

It’s definitely autumnal out there …

This week I was lucky enough to be invited to meet the gorgeous baby Hugo, at just 6 days old. Now, baby Hugo weighed in at 10Ib 7oz, so I was expecting a whopper … and instead was amazed how tiny he was compared to my 8 month old Fred! Freddie was a whole 3Ib lighter than Hugo at birth; and yet I never thought Freddie was tiny [he certainly didn’t feel it as he emerged] As I scrolled back through the hundreds of photos on my iphone, I realised that yes, Freddie was indeed quite tiny. I find myself quite emotional; I keep harping on about how fast the time has gone, but it really HAS. On Monday I have my first “Keep in touch” day at work. I say day, but it’s 4 hours .. which is what I will be working 4 days a week from December 7th. I always knew I would be returning to work 16 hours a week, and I think it’s a good amount of time for Freddie to be away from me [poor kid has had a lot of me these past months, can’t be good for his long term sanity]. His Daddy will have him for two of my shifts, my mum for one, and my aunt the other. I will have fridays off, and 4 hours is manageable, right?

I think the crux of my angst is the fact that maternity leave will be over. We have enjoyed our maternity leave so much; we’ve done so much, we’ve experienced so many firsts together. And I feel the end of maternity leave does mark another chapter. I wish that I could bottle these past months, because I’ve loved every moment – watching my Freddie develop, learn new things and explore the new world around him. I love him more than I ever thought it possible; and I will miss our busy weeks going to groups and meet ups. We will still be able to do a lot of things, and I’m sure there will be times when work will be  welcome relief … but my goodness I’m going to miss him. This is when PollyAnna should kick in and consider all the countries in the world where maternity leave doesn’t exist, and all the people who don’t have jobs to go back to …

It is a year tomorrow since I got the keys to my flat. I didn’t move in immediately as there was carpet to lay and decorating to be done. I’ve been looking back through those photos too. I have always felt so at home here, and it is a lovely flat for Freddie to grow up in – with the park nextdoor and a garage to store his trike. Bit by bit I’m getting things done, and I’m so grateful to have a mortgage and a place to call my own. Perhaps in my dreams I used to imagine living in an Elizabethan moated manor house with a stable yard twice the size of my flat … but hey, there’s plenty of time for that.

Fredders is fast asleep beside me. I won’t be far behind, although it’s not yet 8pm, and 9pm is my usual bedtime [nearly as rock n roll as last friday evenings piles appointment at the GP]. I think we have another gnasher cutting, as the past nights have been 2 hourly wake ups. Poor little chap.Tomorrow is the Christmas lights turn on in our local town, so I shall take my little Prince to that, as we embark on a new season .. and will embrace all that has to offer.