writing hiatus due to my incapability to function as a normal human being

Friday, 14 February 2014

I just zoomed around the house, post-baby-bedtime, picking up random items that had worked their way around today, before the I'm-going-to-fall-asleep-sofa-slump. I found the following:
  • Yankee candle tarts, a bracelet which I keep putting in random places where I can't find it, and a dribbled on teething giraffe on top of a Christmas bowl full of candy canes
  • Stray bits of wet washing hidden on a dining room chair
  • My hairclip attached to the trunk of an elephant puppet
  • Five wetwipes
  • A pile of unopened letters (for people who don't live here)
  • Two hot water bottles
  • Two bibs. One clean, one sicked on
  • A pair of fluffy socks
  • Three muslins
  • Batteries
  • Towels (inexplicably in a pile at the top of the stairs)
  • Dirty washing (on the floor three feet from the washing basket)
There are work shoes on the radiator (you know ... it's raining) and babygros drying everywhere. Today is the kind of day where I considered showering and getting dressed (albeit into my husbands shirt and a pair of leggings) a success, where I actually considered shedding a little tear about the fact that it's raining all the flipping time following days of being stuck in the house with a baby who is sick over me as a past time and has just discovered whining and is enjoying doing it all day long. It's a day where I've been up since 6.20 after waking up previously at 2am ... a day where I watched far too much TV and, rather guiltily, let my child sit on my lap and watch it with me. A day where we ended up ordering pizza for dinner and eating jelly for pudding (yes, I am a grown woman, but I just like jelly).

It's a rainy horrible miserable day.

It's a day where we put our daughter in the Big Bath for the first time and in an attempt to help her like it I affixed some bath toys to the tiles, which promptly fell off and caught her on her cheek by her eye (she's fine!) and then to comfort her I swaddled her up in a towel and lovingly applied some extra-sensitive body lotion I ordered for her, which immediately brought her out in spots all over her cheeks.

When I finished reading her bedtime story, I turned her around to face me. My poor baby, red mark by her eye, huge bags under both, bogey hanging out of one nostril, spots on her cheeks, mouth full of vomit that I had failed to notice because she was facing the other way whilst I was reading to her ...

and she was beaming at me. A big, beautiful, vomity smile that reached all the way to her eyes. A look of pure love.

So it seems she loves me after all even on the days when I open the door to the parcel delivery guy (Dan - or Dan Dan the Delivery Man as I call him, who always happens to arrive just as Baby B is finally nodding off on me) and blurt out a haggard 'thanks' and only realise afterwards that I have a huge, unfortunately-on-my-boob patch of baby dribble and I look like I've had some sort of post-natal milk leakage.

She seems to love me even when I accidentally hit her in the eye with a plastic duck.

My husband seems to love me even on the days when I'm so tired and haphazard that I drop jelly all over the sofa (and promptly tried to clean it up with a wetwipe - have you ever tried picking up jelly with a wetwipe? It's a challenge).

Sorry. I just don't have it in me for a decent blog post right now. Or, you know, for a while.

But ...

Life is good. It's definitely good.

On a random note, you can expect Baby B to start her blog sometime soon.

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