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!

 

The boy keeps growing

Wow. That lone tooth turned into four in the space of a week … good work Freddo; and my nipples have survived to tell the tale. This has meant more sleepless nights, and one day in particular when I felt like I was jetlagged and hungover, minus the holiday memories. Sleep deprivation is a killer, but somehow we plough through it; and teething must be so painful for them. Last night I went to bed with Fred around 8pm, and we must’ve had a better night’s sleep as I was wide awake at 4am eating toast and drinking milk, whilst babykins was snoring horizontally in the bed. I’ve just got a Banana Loaf out of the oven, and when I’ve finished this Blog I will join Fred in the land of nod. I did manage to stay awake for the Bake Off final on Wedneday, and was very proud of myself [and Nadiya, of course].

Babies are so amazing. In the space of 7 months – YES, SEVEN months … my little boy has grown SO much. What wondrous little people they are. I feel like the past month has witnessed so many firsts – and I want to share these because one day I hope Fred will be reading this Blog and hearing about our journey together in this first year. Sometimes it makes me sad that he won’t remember all these fun things we’ve been doing … but I know that the experiences and love won’t be wasted. These 7 months have been brilliant, and I look forward to all the firsts yet to come [just wish time would slow down slightly].

So, Fred is very proud that he can clap his hands. In fact, one particularly sleepless night I had to say with a certain amount of exasperation “darling, 4am isn’t the time at which to show off your new clapping skills“! Meanie.

I found a super second hand smart trike, which you can see in this photo … Freddie has enjoyed so much our trips to the park on it. I think these are such a great invention, as when he gets older he’ll be able to pedal himself. There’s also a nifty little basket on the back where Momma can put her shopping.

You can’t see it very well on this photo because of the hat, but Fred’s hair is also growing VERY quickly! He lost all his dark newborn hair aside from a monk-like fringe at the back .. and now his “real” hair is growing, it’s all fluffy and strawberry blonde. His Dad is auburn, and I was born gingerish … so I think we could have the hint of a ginger ninja … It’s properly spiky. As a sales assistant said last week “it looks like hes been electrocuted!”

Food is going down well, and we’re now having 3 meals a day … mess, a glorious mess every meal time.

It’s incredible to think how different life was last year, and what a different person I was then. There’s some cliched quote doing the rounds about a mother being born when a child is born … and I think this is true. I love it with all my heart, but I’ve never silently worried so much … never given quite as much of myself to anything ever before. I want Freddie to be wrapped in a childhood of love and adventure, of friendships and fun, of laughter and security. Of course I question my parenting. In the early hours as I feed my boy, I realise this is one of the times when a partner would be useful – to chatter to about philosophies, and be supported or questioned in them. It’s like a daily examination of conscience; not wanting to let this little beautiful person down who has been entrusted to me …

Momma’s little Prince.

Because I’m a Mummy …

My darling little boy cut his first tooth today [hooray! It was a tough week for the little chap], and it’s a top one, closely followed by the other top one judging by his gums. Freddie won’t need to sing “All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth“, not this year, anyway. I was expecting bottom gnashers first. Now I just need to pray that my nipples don’t suffer as a result!

This is a rare moment for me, I have approximately 40minutes to blog uninterrupted. Freddie is spending a couple of hours with his Daddy and his family this afternoon; so in the past hour I’ve made our supper [sweet potato, carrot, pepper, broccoli and normal potato mash with cheese], an apple and plum puree for Fredders’ pudding; had a shower [without my usual panic that I can hear my boy crying!] and even put some moisturiser on – quel indulgence! Washing machine swirling around, and now it’s time for some lemon & mango squash and a Blog. It’s very strange, Freddie not being here. I always knew, embarking on a pregnancy as a single mother – that I wanted Fred to know his Dad and form a relationship with him … but I still worry about him when he’s not here. I always say to his Dad as he walks down the landing “look after him” – and I’ll probably still be saying that when he’s 14! Luckily Fred is proving to be a cheeky confident smiley boy, and I’m sure I have no reason to worry. I’ll try and enjoy this silent “me time” and treasure that cuddle when he arrives home.

Now, I think I’ll search for summer holidays next year …. Fredders and I fancy a bit of Cypriot sun!

… it really does seem strange without my baby ….

Le Petit Prince

Momma and her little Prince

When I was little, I spent a lot of time drawing my wedding dress. Now I’m 33 and a quarter with my beautiful baby [and no man] – it is debatable whether I’ll ever get to wear it. I think if I do find my Mr Big one day [not in a rush, my main man is Fredders], a beach wedding with close friends would be on the cards. My cousin’s wedding on Monday was beautifully planned, and the whole day was a reflection of their love. Sarah looked stunning in her dress, and the Cotswold setting was gorgeous, even in the Bank Holiday rain. My little Prince Freddie was a star, and chuckled/blew raspberries throughout the ceremony. My dress was from Seraphine, which is a company specialising in maternity/nursing wear. It was great having easy access to the boobs at all times! I also survived the day without being covered in baby sick. Result!

Momma’s Prince Freddie

The happy couple are now relaxing in Spain, and I’m sitting in bed eating some [more] chocolate wedding cake. Breastfeeding is my excuse – ravenous – always.

Today Freddie is 26 weeks old, and on Saturday 5th he will be exactly 6 months – half a year. Wow. This time 26 weeks ago I was on the Post Natal ward staring in disbelief into the crib beside me. I will never forget that feeling of utter awe and amazement. Actually, I look beside me now at a sleeping Freddie, and I’m still in awe! He’s teething at the moment and constantly  chewing/dribbling/gnawing. Every morning I check his little gums for any signs of a gnasher, but I suppose they have a long way to travel until they emerge. It seems so cruel!

Yesterday we had a lovely time swimming with Freddie’s baby friends Arthur and Ivy. Swimming tired Fredders out, and I think he’s still playing catch up from the night away … as he dropped off to sleep before the end of “In the night garden” tonight …

Oh … taking of CBeebies … is anyone else freaked out by Mr Tumble? He’s just a bit … wrong ….

“Baby likes milk”

My nails are painted royal blue ready for tomorrow’s wedding … our overnight bag is packed, and Freddie is all bathed and asleep beside me. Auntie Sarah, who cut Freddie’s cord, is getting married; my little cousin is becoming Mrs Watson. I’m hoping my little darling boy manages more than an hour between feeds tonight. 6 month growth spurt? We have a Vtech toy cow thing which says [amongst other things] “Baby likes milk” – to which Freddie always chuckles. Yes, baby DOES like milk. If only one could detach ones breast and hand it to baby for the night … and feed via remote control …

We seem to be on a rollercoaster of firsts at the moment, and yesterday Freddie went in a baby swing for the very first time. He loved it! I can see I have a future in playgrounds for a good few years. I took him to another park today, and his little face lit up as I held him in the swing and pushed him gently. We also fed the ducks our stale bread, much to Fred’s amusement as the Canada geese came sqwaking along the lake. It’s these little shared moments which continually melt my heart. Every day there is something new; and the joy on his little face is just beautiful. There is nothing more perfect than a baby’s chuckle … especially when it’s YOUR baby chuckling at you. Poor child thinks he has a crazy mother!

I’m hoping the next first will be a gnasher. Little chap is chomping and dribbling for England … Bonjela, we love you.

Oh, and MY first for tomorrow is wearing heels for the first time since before Freddie was born … needless to say there will be some flats in my handbag. I shall be a lady for the day, although I’m convinced my lovely blue dress will have splatters of baby sick on it before the ceremony has begun! I’m also rather looking forward to a bath in the hotel. We only have a shower in my flat, and the last bath I had was in the birthing pool 6 months ago …

Of course, I shall blog about it all when we get back.