Like many excited soon-to-be Mums, I read the baby books and daydreamed naively about how perfect life would be with our new bundle. Sure, we would be tired, but we’ve been tired before – it’s no big deal and it’s only for the first few weeks anyway – right? I would nap in the day, exercise, bake and of course, go out and about and offer baby plenty of play and stimulation – easy.
When my son came along though, we appeared to be working from different manuals, and looking after a baby really wasn’t quite what I expected, or had been led to believe. Continue reading
The name’s Mouse, Danger Mouse
I was terrified of the day my baby would start crawling. Our house which, prior to having a baby, seemed a perfectly reasonable place to reside, now resembled a Field of Danger and Bad Things, and I couldn’t imagine any other way of keeping him safe than camping out in the garden.
I responsibly consulted my baby book, nearly fainted with shock and anxiety at just how lethal the average home appeared to be, tried to throw away our plants (poisonous, who knew?), was told by my husband to calm the hell down, so instead hid the bleach, bought a couple of stair gates, and crossed my fingers. Continue reading
The crying like a baby month
You – You arrive home from hospital happy, terrified and scared to wee. You are euphoric. You have a baby! You gave birth! Look what you made! You realise you don’t know your arse from your elbow. You receive lovely cards, lovely gifts, and lovely messages. Visitors bring you sandwiches and tell you how brilliant you are. You stay up watching your baby sleep. Not because he is beautiful (although he is) but because he wakes screaming every time you put him down. You take it in turns with your partner and each begin the never-ending battle to prove that you are the most tired. Your baby books are used to tilt the crib from underneath and you spend any time not feeding stood at the extractor fan singing Twinkle, Twinkle. Continue reading