The one where I mime the happy dance
There are certain times in life when you don’t need an alarm clock; when you’re a student or when you go on holiday, for example and, of course, when you have a four month old baby who’s teething.
11.30pm. SCREAMING! I feed him and settle him back into his cot. And breathe.
2.30am – SCREAMING! Feed him again, settle him back into his cot and try to sleep without making a sound.
4am – SCREAMING! No feed this time as it’s just too soon, so instead I rock, bob, shush, placate an angry OH, bob some more, sidle slowly into bed while still rocking and bobbing (which is a feat in itself I can tell you), slowly, gently, slowly reducing the motion until I’m lying semi-prone in bed, my head resting on the hard head board, my nasal passages and jaw throbbing from a combination of sinusitis and too much shushing with the Little Man snuffling on my shoulder and threatening to wake up ever thirty seconds. Attempt to sleep sitting up. I fail.
5am – SCREAMING again. I am reduced to offering Calpol as a relief which, after more rocking, bobbing and shushing (oh sod off, Gina Ford, I’m doing my best here y’know) finally seemed to work. I slide him slowly down my shoulder to the crook of my arm and then oh-so-carefully onto the bed with a pillow either side of him just in case he decides to make a break for it (unlikely I know as he can’t even roll over yet but a sleep deprived brain can imagine every worst scenario squared).
I hold my breath.
Woo hoo! What follows can only be described as a mime artist’s impression of the ‘happy dance’. Then I have a shower and life continued much as it always does.
It’s these minor dramas in my day that make life interesting. Errr…right?
Image courtesy of Smarnad / FreeDigitalPhotos.net