- Got out of bed as noisily as possible so your baby knows you really shitting mean it this time.
- But then crept out of the nursery like a frickin’ ninja. On tip-toes. Backwards. One boob hanging free. Balancing a Sophie-the-bastard-Giraffe on your head. Holding your breath. Without blinking.
- Begun checking Amazon for perfect prep machines. Ewan the Dream Sheep. And boarding schools.
- Decided that slightly crusty cot-sheet will be fine… They’re in a bloody grobag… It’s not like they’re rolling around naked in their own filth.
- It’s 5am. You haven’t been to sleep since Tuesday. Your baby is piping liquid yellow shit into their grobag like squeezing banana porridge out of an Ella’s Kitchen pouch… You leave them rolling around naked in their own filth.
- Taken to Twitter. To call your baby things you literally can’t say to their face. Because you’re too scared your 16 week old will somehow understand you.
- Reminded yourself that the 4-month sleep regression can happen in months one, two and three as well. Along with month five. Upwards. Forever. Until you’re dead.
- Been truly at the end of your tether, after finally getting your baby to sleep, then realising… shit… You can’t remember if the black out blind is down and your baby is wearing a POLYESTER BABYGRO. CODE RED. CODE RED. I repeat CODE RED. (Now repeat points 1 through to 7 again…)
- Become inconsolable after not being able to locate the muslin that you left RIGHT F@*KING THERE FOR F@*K’s F@*KING SAKE. The bedding is white. The muslin is white. You can’t turn the light on… What do you do…?! That’s right. Cry. Until your husband wakes up and finds the muslin instantly without even opening both eyes. Twat.
- Accidentally entered the nursery naked. (You’re too exhausted to recall how to clothe yourself. Or use eyes.) So sat there freezing your tits off, (quite literally if you’re breastfeeding), then realised that your shivering seems to have provided some kind of sleep inducing vibration, and that this is it now. You’re here for the night. Time to get on twitter.
- After exhausting all the useful advice Google has to offer, you’ve begun begging. Using your best truly-pathetic-desperate voice. So your baby knows you really shitting mean it this time.
#gin
I operate a one up all up. If I'm up with the baby so is my husband! 9 happened to me a lot, but with dummies. Glow in the dark dummies, I can never see them through my sleep deprived eyes x
ReplyToo bloody right 😉 haha x
ReplyOh dear god. It's been six years, but reading this took me back… and yes, tiny infant, I REALLY DO MEAN IT THIS TIME.
Replylol x ME TOO!
ReplyOh dear god. It's been six years, but reading this took me back… and yes, tiny infant, I REALLY DO MEAN IT THIS TIME.
ReplyAhh I hope you get some proper sleep soon x I'm slightly terrified now!!
ReplyThank you sweetie! xxx
ReplyOh I love this, so funny, so true, these thing made me cry at the time when Boo was tiny and I cried with laughter reading them now.
Replyheehee x thanks lovely! xxx
ReplyThe amount of times I used to ninja myself back to bed with at least one if not both boobs hanging out are far too many to count; I can't believe I did that with five kids *tugs at the straight jacket* xx
ReplyWow. Five. Bows and offers gin…?
ReplyThis made me laugh. Although I think the mental image of you naked and shivering with a sleeping baby may take some time to erase! I'm sure he knows that you really mean it this time!
ReplyI DO REALLY MEAN IT! lol xx
ReplyI take it your baby doesn't have a dummy? I remember rummaging around in the pitch black, desperately searching for the holy grail, hoping to pop it in there before they properly woke up. Why is it you can never find the things when you want them?! Drink all the gin and perhaps that will help – you're breastfeeding aren't you?
ReplyNo dummy. Lots of gin 🙂 x (without killing them via gin-boob that is) x
ReplyHaha, bloody brilliant. I love it. And the husband, twat, thing… Brilliant! Xx
Reply*sniggers*
ReplyAnd this is why I am done. Thanks for reminding me I don't need any more x
Replyhaha – ME TOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
ReplyHaha – this is a woman on the edge. THE EDGE!!! Does he not understand – he's 4 months now – get with the programme. It will pass lovely – I promise – meanwhile just feel free to punch me in the face for saying that xx
ReplySends punch in a tweet… lol x thanks tho babes! xx
ReplyAww bad times. There is light at the end of the tunnel. And there is gin too. Guilt-free gin 🙂 xxx
ReplyThanks babes! I’m just doing gin until then though… 😉 x
ReplyOh my word this is so true. Half of this I’d forgotten as I’ was too tired! 🙂 x
ReplyLol 😉 thanks for the comment chicken! Xxx
ReplyTwenty five years on and this took me straight back to those endless nights! Eventually they sleep. You get a few years peace. Then they want independence and the sleepless nights begin again! Wouldn’t have missed it for the world!
Replyha x I’m sure i’ll be the same 😉 x but i would quite happily sell some organs right now for a decent night’s sleep! lol x
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