Hermit

So I’ve come to the realisation I am in fact a hermit. Giving birth has resulted in me being happy to stay indoors 22 hours a day. Me and N usually go for a walk in the evening when J gets home from work but apart from that we stay in when were alone together. It is winter.. is that a viable excuse? Probably not. I’m probably damaging N’s mind and he’ll grow up fearing sunlight and have see through pale skin but it’s just so easy. I’d rather stay in and play with him whilst streaming the latest series of The Walking Dead then go through the whole rigmarole of getting him ready; sort out his bag, a bottle, wrestle him into his car seat, drag everything out the house, lock up, get it into the car, listen to his ‘I’m in the car and hate it’ screams. Why bother. Well probably because I’ll end up senile and so fat they’ll have to cut me out of my house when I eventually do need to leave. I really should get out more but I hate baby groups and general mum activities. Any suggestions are always welcome..

 

The cotton bud trick…

Now before I write this and you read it, understand this is not something I ever wanted to admit but desperate times call for desperate measures…

Baby constipation is no joke. When N’s constipated he is inconsolable. He screeches for hours and throws his body around as if he’s possessed, think ‘the last exorcism’ and your half way there. The first time it happened I inevitably Googled baby constipation relief, (what else are you to do when your a mum and have no idea what your doing?) After bottles spiked with prune juice, multiple baths, belly massages and yanking his legs around I stumbled upon a more direct approach. A cotton bud, some Vaseline and a changing mat; use your imagination.

So I’m setting up to try it. J has washed his hands of the whole thing and is sitting across the room. We’re half expecting social services to burst through the door at any moment. I’m not going to lie, it looked like something out of a seedy massage parlour but I’m willing to try anything. To cut things short, you have to pop the end of the cotton bud in their bum, wiggle it a bit and wait for it to work, all the while avoiding eye contact as what you’re doing is a bit creepy. You have to wait about 2 seconds before the gates of hell open. I can only describe it as similar to one of those play dough fun factory’s. I’m positioning nappy after nappy but it just keeps coming. It’s not normal baby poo either -no wonder he was constipated. You wouldn’t think a tiny body could harbour it all. It’s a bit mortifying to do but boy is it effective! The look of relief on N’s face is incredible and I can see why. Be prepared, when you think it’s over, it’s not; Grab a few nappies and give it 20 minutes.

The things you have to do as a mother only get grosser but this does work so keep it in mind, just maybe don’t admit it to anyone else…

After the big event

Everything after birth feels like an absolute dream. You can’t quite believe it’s over with. 9 months has led up to this and it’s over, you’re a parent and your life is changed. Everyone is over the moon. It’s amazing how much joy a baby brings on everyone in your life, not just you. It’s beautiful really. You’ve created something that makes everyone else happy and there yours to keep forever.

But it’s not all rainbows and flowers.. From what I went through, I’ve made a list of the troubles you’ll go through after giving birth;

  • You’ll feel like you’re peeing acid – pour warm water over you whilst you pee and drink loads of water, it really helps.
  • You’ll be exhausted and emotional so be ready for tears over literally anything.
  • You’ll still get contractions, how outrageous is that!? It’s just your uterus going back to size. Also, they get worse when you cuddle your baby because of the hormones the love between you releases! It’s pretty cool but bloody painful too.
  • As fore mentioned, you will bleed more than you think. It’s not normal bleeding either, it’s massive clots too. It’s gross and creepy but it will happen. Get some granny pants you don’t mind chucking afterwards.
  • If you gave birth vaginally, your fanny will hurt….really hurt.
  • You’ll feel like you’ve got the worst hangover of your life. As hard as it is, drink loads and try to rest. My someone else do everything. You just gave birth!!!
  • You probably won’t eat for like a week. Try too, it’ll only make you feel worse.
  • You might feel like you have absolutely no idea what’s going on, what to do or when to do it. Don’t worry, I’m sure everyone feels like that. Trust your instincts. Do what you think is right. Your baby, your rules!
  • DON’T feel bad if you feel like you can’t do it. You can. It’s like the first day of a new job. Everyone wants to know how it’s going and you probably won’t have a clue. It’s completely normal.
  • There not made of glass. Your baby is a baby yes, but don’t feel scared to pick them up, move them, burp them. I was scared to touch N for a while in case I broke him and now I’m as heavy handed as they come.
  • When your milk comes in, you’ll look like Jordan (it’s brilliant) but it hurts like hell. Invest in a massive comfy bra for these days and get some ice on them.
  • I’ve said it before but do NOT feel pressured into visits too soon. Yes, people want to see your baby but you need time to bond with them and get into the swing of things first. You wouldn’t let someone else try your new Xmas present before you did right? Same ( sort of?) thing.
  • The first few days are weird. Baby’s literally sleep 95% of the time and barely eat at first. Don’t worry. They will let you know if they’re hungry. They’ve just come from one world into another so they’re adjusting. They’ll be screaming at you all day and eating every 30 minutes in no time.
  • If you’re breastfeeding, be prepared for your nipples to hurt. Grab some nipple cream and if you’re determined to breastfeed, persevere. It won’t hurt forever, you just need to get through the first few weeks and it’ll ease off.

You’ll settle into things soon, maybe straight away, maybe after a few weeks. Personally it took me ages to get used to having a baby. It was a huge adjustment and I’m still not convinced I’m doing it right..

Come fly with me (joking, run far, far away)

Me and J have just returned from a long weekend in the South of France with a now 12 week old N. We’re crazy right? Yes, yes we are.

We get to the airport and N’s still asleep as it’s early. We get through security without a hitch, grab something to eat and head for the gate. All is going well, N’s still sleeping and I’m pretty confident he’ll sleep through the flight. We queue up to board and I nip off to the loo as my bladder control isn’t what it used to be and plane toilets freak me out – someone told me once that when you flush you get 10 seconds to get out and it flushes the entire room? I think this is bullsh*t but I never risk it. So I walk back from the loo and it’s all kicked off. I see J holding N and he is losing his shit. Apparently he started screaming as soon as I walked away from his pram… which kind of makes me happy I’ll be honest, maybe he does love me a little. I cuddle him and he calms down. We then had the inevitable argument with the Ryanair staff over the fact N has J’s surname and not mine. Yes I am his mother, no I have not kidnapped him etc.

Eventually we get on and I immediately whip out all the baby tools I have; milk, dummies, toys, ipad filled with baby sensory videos, blankets, muslins. I could set up a store with the amount of crap on my tray table, honestly. Just as the staff start their safety demonstration I feel, hear and smell N do a thunder poo. I know it’s bad. I just know that it’s gone everywhere and that this is going to be a fucking nightmare. Of course the seatbelt signs are still on so I can’t even move. The smell starts circulating so I’m burying him in blankets to try and keep it contained. It’s another 30 minutes until I can finally dash to the loo with him.

I took J with me for back up which was pointless as I could barely fit in the loo by myself let alone with him. I’m on my own in there, OK I can do this. I fold the ‘changing table’ down and I kid you not it’s barely bigger than my seat tray table. Same material too (hard plastic with absolutely no grip). I’ve had to lay N down diagonally just to get him on and he is not happy. As soon as I remove his trousers and baby grow I can see the damage. It’s up the back, it’s up the front, it’s out the sides. Trying to remove a shit covered vest from a baby who is screaming, at 20,000 feet, is nigh on impossible. During the procedure, inevitably, both N and I get covered in the yellow stuff. He is now naked, covered in his own crap and sliding around on this crappy plastic tray whilst I try and scrape the shit off my jumper. He is also screaming so loud I’m half expecting to walk out the loo with him and immediately be tackled to the ground for child abuse. I end up stuffing his shitty clothes into the plane bin, wiping him down with both wipes and tap water and carrying him back to our seats with his baby grow undone.

I’m pretty sure we both stunk of shit the entire flight but he ended up going to sleep after that and I could relax. Why does this always happen to me? Anyway, all that aside we had a lovely weekend. Our first little family holiday!

Out Out

So you may of seen I went out out on Saturday, the first time since finding out I was pregnant. I went with my best friend and another friend who has a 2 year old. Ultimate mum’s night out.

I had such a relaxing few hours getting ready as N was at my mum’s. It was nice enough just to have a bath without watching the clock and properly do my hair and make-up. I went for a leather trousers and blouse combo (it was really all that fit me) and J dropped me off. We started off in Spoons for prinks and to be honest, I felt pretty tipsy after a couple of Prosecco’s. Not drinking for 9 months has changed me.

We went to a club (more bar than club but we like it) and actually had a pretty good night. It was like old times. I’d completely forgotten how to dance but I couldn’t really before anyway.  I roped J into picking me up at 2am. 2AM!!! I am wild. I’d quite obviously drunk too much and had to pull over multiple times on the way home to be sick, classy mum! We slept in till 12 the next day but I woke up with the worst hangover in the world. I can’t hack it anymore, I’m past my prime, I thought I was dying. After another trip to the loo to be sick and a large Mcdonald’s meal we headed to my mum’s to pick N up. As soon as I cuddled him I realised I never ever wanted to go out again. Sitting in with N beats going out any day of the week. Also, looking around at all the people drunk, dancing and getting off with each other with no responsibilities made me feel so guilty I was in there! Not to mention the amount of money I managed to plough through. Seriously what was I drinking?

Oh p**s off

Did everyone see (or get tagged in) Luisa Zissman’s baby routine post on Instagram? No? Lucky you.

She uploaded her 6 month old’s daily routine on Instagram this week and one of my lovely friends thought it’d be great to tag me in it. She genuinely thought I might be interested so I can’t really be mad – I definitely was at the time.

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So there it is.

First of all.. HOW MUCH DOES HER BABY SLEEP?! N sleeps 8 hours at night and then probably 4 hours spread throughout the day. That’s 12 hours a day. Half a day he’s a sleep, half he’s awake. Her baby sleeps for what looks like over 16 hours in a day. 16 hours!! And then it leaves about 4 hours in a day when she’s not sleeping/feeding. Honestly it sounds like bliss. 16 hours to get the housework done, to have a bath, to have an un-rushed wee whilst scrolling through Facebook. That’s what dreams are made of – and she said her daughter has been in this routine since birth!

Of course it instantly made me question everything I am doing. Should N be sleeping more? He’s so much younger than her daughter, surely he should be more sleepy? Is he strange for being so awake all the time? Should I be enforcing a strict routine?! We usually let N lead the way when it comes to his day. He wakes at the same time and usually naps at roughly the same time each day. Other day’s we go out/visit people/drive somewhere so it changes it all. He loves to nap in the car and rarely naps at other people’s houses so I just can’t see a routine working. Is that wrong? I thought about it for ages but it’s working for us at the moment and I like the fact each day is different. Of course it makes it harder to anticipate meltdowns in Aldi and he might sleep straight through visitors but I really don’t care.

Plus, why would a celebrity know any better than yourself? I am so one for following anything and everything I read online which is so silly. Just because something works for one person, doesn’t mean it’ll work for me  and I need to remember that!

 

 

 

I USED to love shopping

Shopping used to be such a relaxing activity. A mooch round the shops then a coffee, another mooch then lunch. Now I fear the shops. I will ration me and J so I don’t have to go. How long can humans survive on solely water? Like 2 weeks right?

So firstly you have to decide whether you’re going to take him in the pram and try to buy as little as possible so you can balance it on top of the carry cot, or if you’re going to use one of those horrific baby trolleys. I went out to Aldi today with N and had to give in and put him in a trolley. I had loads to get so pushing him and holding a basket was out of the question. We leave the house, he’s fine, he’s just been fed and I’m praying he goes to sleep in the car. He doesn’t. We arrive and I park in a kiddie space (love that) and venture off to the hell hole that is the trolley shed. Of course the baby trolleys are about 30 deep meaning you have to shimmy down the middle of the trolley aisle and try to retrieve one. Today, as of most days, someone came to my rescue and helped me manoeuvre one out. Obviously it had a dodgy wheel but I pressed on. I was determined.

N is in the crappy plastic seat. I haven’t attempted to put the straps round him because honestly they’re a nightmare. We head for the doors and it starts. I don’t know what it is with Aldi car parks but they seem to of been levelled off with a cheese grater. The bumps start pissing N off and he’s already grizzly. You have 2 options here; go back to the car, go home and order online, or, run into the store, do your shopping as quickly as possible and hope for the best. I chose the latter.

I looked like a contestant on Dales Supermarket Sweep. I crashed around Aldi like a bat out of hell, not even giving N the chance to cry. I grab the minimum amount of groceries to keep me and J alive for the week and we hit the queues. Another gripe about Aldi; why are their aisles so narrow? You can’t go 2 trolleys deep without getting wedged and the place is full of old people who can’t hear you saying ‘excuse me please’.

N kicks off. I’m thinking its OK, just got to pay and we’ll be in the sanctuary of our car where he can scream as much as he likes. Of course not! First, you have to battle with the cashier who is scanning your shopping like it’s on bloody fire. Secondly,  you have to go to that little shelf by the windows and THEN pack your shopping away. Don’t you dare do it at the till. Lastly, In my Aldi you have to queue at a computer screen and enter your registration number to prove you were actually shopping.

I panicked. I threw my shopping into the trolley, paid and ran out. Now, I not only have some considerably bruised fruit and a cracked bottle of ketchup, I have a hefty fine on the way for not registering my parking.

Joy upon Joy’s.