Thursday, February 7, 2013
A Growth Spurt Kind Of Day (Baby Chronicles)
I'd like to preface this by saying I love, love, love being a mother.
The past 1/2 an hour has been spent laying on the big bed with Orlando chatting, cooing and smiling - there is nothing better on this earth than moments like these.
Things have been pretty relentless this week though.
So bare with me while I have a pity party for one.
Everyday at 0600, since Tuesday morning, I've had a second wind, a gust of positivity that it's a new day and I can push on through.
We've said hello to midnight and yes to a midnight snack at 2400 then again at 2am, 4am and 530am.
As I sit nursing Orlando I watch the black night sky turn into a subdued Tiffany Blue, the day begins.
This is my morning ritual where I listen to the birds, nature's music, letting me know it's another day,
I feel invigorated - I can do this.
Orlando goes onto the tummy time mat so he can coo away at the owls under the watchful eye of daddy.
On goes my invisible Wonder Woman cape as the Nespresso Machine whirrs away - an espresso and latte for Hamish, a latte for me.
I ask Hamish if he wants breakfast and whip up some pretty average looking eggs on toast, sometimes I wonder why he bothers to eat half of what I produce.
My Kitchen Rules eat your heart out.
Then it's time for a play and a story with Orlando imagine if we were deep in the jungle....
Before I know it Hamish has long left the building, my coffee has been downed in one mouthful and Orlando is yawning and ready to be put down again.
Some rocking, a made up song which more often than not makes no sense, gentle pats and he's off to sleep.
Time for my breakfast, I unload the washing machine, hang the washing out, unload the dishwasher.... house work.
There is always house work.
I literally cannot live in a mess so it has to be done as soon as humanly possible.
Hamish thinks I'm crazy when I tell him the house is in shambles.
I am crazy, but a tidy home is a tidy heart or whatever the saying is.
That 'saying' is a complete fragment of my imagination, please don't quote it.
Orlando wakes up literally to the dot an hour later.
Time for another feed, then a play, another story, more songs and lots of chats and smiles.
I live for Orlando's smiles.
A soothing bath is thrown into the mix where we chat a little bit more and he thrills in frightening me half to death by peeing into the air mid conversation (all of a sudden it APPEARS) this is always followed up by the cutest of grins.
Then he gets a baby massage of his soft little legs, feet, tootsies, arms and back all to the soothing tinkle of Brahm's Lullaby courtesy of his mobile.
Normally he would then go back to sleep after some pats and rocking but the past few days he has had different ideas.
The cries came, strong and relentless.
I try laying him on his side and patting him, holding him and patting him, singing, white noise, nappy check, sleep suit, a suckle (hell NO crazy lady I do NOT want a drink)... I try it all.
His crying stops and then starts again, stops then starts.
Eventually he relaxes and goes to sleep.
But only for an hour, maybe 2 if I'm very, very lucky.
Then it's time for more food and the cycle goes on.
A growth spurt isn't gentle on a baby and it's just not kind at all on a mamma.
Orlando's has been going on since midnight Monday and I'm hoping that it stops today otherwise, my child and maternal nurse said - it's time to lay down the law.
I'm exhausted times a million, trillion.
Usually he sleeps from 7pm until 3am with a small midnight snack then he isn't up again until 6.
But not this week.
Thank GOD coffee doesn't effect him because I'm clocking two cups a day at the moment.
I'd murder someone for a Coke right now but if I disrupt the 'pattern' we've got going on it could possibly make things worse.
Yesterday I made the outlandish decision to have some lunch before Mother's Group and started boiling water for ramen.
I went to lift Orlando out of his Bumbo seat and there was poo, everywhere.
Needless to say it was another bath for him, another shower for me and there was no ramen to be had.
At night I hear cicadas singing away, signalling for windows to be thrown open so cool air can make it's way through the house.
It's that sweet moment in time after Hamish and I have sat down to dinner, just before I start the ironing and an evening breast pump.
This is when I get my third wind - I can do this, make it through the night, get everything done, have a happy baby, tidy home and happy Hamish.
The cycle continues.
I can do this.