ailbhe | Nov. 4th, 2004

First, happy birthday to Lean - I only just realised it's the fourth today. I hope Oisin behaves himself and your next year has as much joy and more sleep than your last one.

Second, Linnea is teething hard - I have had some measure of success with letting her cry herself to sleep, but this morning she cried for longer than 30 seconds so I went in and looked, and she was standing in her cot, holding the bar, square-mouthed and slit-eyed, bawling. So I gave her baby paracetemol and a feed and a cuddle, and she went off after that. How can I do sleep training with a 6 month old who stands up in her cot inside her sleeping bag? I will have to wait until she has worked out how to get back down again.

At baby swimming today, I dropped a load of wet togs and towels on top of my dry knickers, so I had to walk home in wet underwear. Yeuch. However, the fact that I loudly complained about this to the whole changing room shows how much less shy I am than ten years ago, when I used to avoid acknowledging that anyone in the changing room could have noticed I existed even if I'd gone to the pool with them in the first place. I have very situation-specific shyness, characterised by a conversation Kathy and I had about tampons in St Stephens Green, ten and a half years ago now.

I have no idea what's for dinner tonight. This isn't good, as we need to eat and I thought we'd have chicken curry. Oops! No chicken! Now what? Never mind, I'll go out to tea with a friend instead and maybe I'll buy us all takeaway.

My friend and I are both having phantom baby kicks in our lower tummies now. It's probably because we both want to get pregnant again. She might even be able to. I'm not allowed for ages. Poot. Speaking of which, my surgery is on 14 December and I have to go in on 2 December to talk about it, apparently. And tell them who will collect me by car after my op and care for me for 24 hours afterwards. I assume from this that I go in, get a general, have surgery, and get sent home again. That's a bit daunting, though I'm pleased not to miss Linnea.