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There's all kinds of financial stress and intense family dramah going on, but I'm not here to write about that! No, instead I'm going to write about the baby because that's what I do nowadays on this blog when I'm not cataloguing the fall in the quality of life of my cats.
I have to say that having my mother here has completely salvaged my mental health. That and my child growing older and transforming himself from an unhappy little blob into a proper little baby you can interact and play with on a more meaningful level than "Want boob? Here's boob!" I know this because my conversations with him have shifted from: "You're a bloody demanding little boy who is doing my head in, but it's okay because I love you and you're mine" to "You're such a good, good boy and I love you and I'm looking forward to when you wake up because I want to play."
Research has shown that:
1) My breasts and the child have a complex psychic thing going on. No matter how many rooms apart they are, regardless of how long the child has been sleeping (whether one hour or four), about five minutes before he is due to wake up my previously placid bosoms suddenly spring into action and fill up with milk.
2) The first time the baby smiled purposefully at me not because I was attempting to amuse it but simply because it spotted me and was all "Hello! I know you and I love you!" this generated even more happiness than a season's worth of American Princess episodes being played back to back.
3)The next best thing is that at five weeks my child is finally becoming more self-sufficient and interesting and that this is so intensely gratifying I want to do a dance.
4) When I realised that my baby had managed to entertain himself yesterday for 25 GLORIOUS BLESSED MINUTES by gazing at the sofa cushions and flailing his arms and legs and most importantly requiring no input from me whatsoever, I did do a dance.
5) Breastfeeding on demand broke my mind but using my mother's help to train the child to sleep through the night with some soothing and a drink of water is healing it.
6) The only thing more gratifying than sleeping when the baby sleeps is using that time to resume Seshual Relashuns.
I have to say that having my mother here has completely salvaged my mental health. That and my child growing older and transforming himself from an unhappy little blob into a proper little baby you can interact and play with on a more meaningful level than "Want boob? Here's boob!" I know this because my conversations with him have shifted from: "You're a bloody demanding little boy who is doing my head in, but it's okay because I love you and you're mine" to "You're such a good, good boy and I love you and I'm looking forward to when you wake up because I want to play."
Research has shown that:
1) My breasts and the child have a complex psychic thing going on. No matter how many rooms apart they are, regardless of how long the child has been sleeping (whether one hour or four), about five minutes before he is due to wake up my previously placid bosoms suddenly spring into action and fill up with milk.
2) The first time the baby smiled purposefully at me not because I was attempting to amuse it but simply because it spotted me and was all "Hello! I know you and I love you!" this generated even more happiness than a season's worth of American Princess episodes being played back to back.
3)The next best thing is that at five weeks my child is finally becoming more self-sufficient and interesting and that this is so intensely gratifying I want to do a dance.
4) When I realised that my baby had managed to entertain himself yesterday for 25 GLORIOUS BLESSED MINUTES by gazing at the sofa cushions and flailing his arms and legs and most importantly requiring no input from me whatsoever, I did do a dance.
5) Breastfeeding on demand broke my mind but using my mother's help to train the child to sleep through the night with some soothing and a drink of water is healing it.
6) The only thing more gratifying than sleeping when the baby sleeps is using that time to resume Seshual Relashuns.