This morning Linnea woke bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and pottered about on her computer while I stayed in bed with Emer. I got up before Emer properly woke and did laundry and dishwashering and tidying, and then when Emer woke we all had porridge. Linnea and I were dressed to go out by ten o'clock but Emer wasn't until closer to eleven, but that's ok. She doesn't like being dressed.
We went to Lidl for orange juice and bananas and carrots and other things which are available in organic, fair-trade, or British (ie kinda localish) cheaper than the market sells them. I also caved in and bought silicate grapes (ie nonorganic) imported from the other end of the planet. Bad Environmentalist No Biscuit.
After that I compounded my sin by eating in McDonalds, which I'm always ashamed of because of their international eeeeebil, and then we came home and I finished doing laundry and tidying the bathroom, kitchen, and dining room for the BfN people. I put the stairgate in and cleared the kitchen and got coffee on, and it was almost ready by the time the first person arrived.
The lesson went well.
Rob arrived during the post-lesson chat, and so I could leave for the True Food market without waking Emer. Linnea was just as pleased to be left behind too. I got a lot of useful shopping done and had two cups of tea and several interesting-to-me conversations. I absolutely have to get out more - this is really important. Maybe if I take up yoga it will help.
All I ever think about are money and babies, babies and money. Oh, and environmentalism and politics.
I think this third week of PMS is doing a number on my self-perception because I am not in a good place right now.
I crept into Linnea's bed in the night because I had persistent anxiety about her continued breathing.
However, I have monster laundry mountains in process, and I've emailed the community garden for a replacement key, and left voicemail with the secretary for the hall we hired for Linnea's third birthday to see if it's free this year.
I just need to make sure I don't do anything important while I'm this tired.
It was horrible, and I await with interest the bruise patterns.
Needless to say we were all too knackered to go to Meeting today, especially with a birthday party this afternoon, so we're still here; Rob and Linnea are in the attic doing DIY and Emer and I are in the dining room discussing the family of white elephants living under the dining table (they like coffee and potatoes with mayonnaise, but they don't wear hats).
He has now set himself alarms so that he doesn't miss her bedtime any more. She can read the clock now.
This stuff is dead easy for me. I say (for example) "I know it's not eight o'clock, it's after eight o'clock, quick, now, this minute, go," and I close my ears and harden my heart and so we go.
But Rob feels mean, doing that, and Negotiations Ensue.
Well, perhaps they are more like Peace Talks. No-one actually alters their stated position, and no-one moved forward, and the less powerful parties escalate the levels of passion and violence... Very like peace talks, I think.
So I helped her get them off her bed and onto the floor, and tucked her up, and will check on her in a few minutes, maybe.
I need to stay awake until 11 to wake Rob who is working tonight. Luckily, my invigorating bath with Emer and my energetic being-patient-with-Linnea have woken me RIGHT UP.
Also, xkcd 386, I think.
Or maybe a parcel, or a card, or a book.
I'm so tired I keep wanting to put my head on the keyboard and doze off. As soon as possible I will go to bed and go to sleep. I can't remember when I was last this tired. This has been a terrible week for tiredness.
Anyway, between the nappies and the dressing and the wiping and the cleaning, I've washed my hands raw. I've tidied the spare room enough that I can get a few buggies in there, cleared the front hallway, put the rug down in the front room again (it really needs a wash but Rob spot-rinsed it so I'm not washing it again, it's now both damp and dirty and I'll just cover it up with a blankie for babies) and cooked breakfast and put away all Rob's baking from yesterday - banana muffins and flapjacks. I made a madeira cake yesterday too so there's enough to go around.
I have yet to sweep the bathroom, rear hall and kitchen floors, clear the kitchen and dining room, pop out to Lidl and buy fair-trade bananas and maybe some other fruit or veg depending on what's local, cook lunch, sotart dinner (Rob took meat out to defrost), and set up for the arrival of my BfN class.
In my free time, I will drink my second coffee. Rob now makes me two - TWO - thermal mugs of coffee of a morning. Life is good.
Baby George on the Archers triggers my letdown reflex.
It's terribly, terribly quiet. I have a hot cup of tea and a book (Nuala O'Faolain "my dream of you") and the smell of cigarette smoke wafting in from outdoors. Emer is asleep in the next room, making occasional cheerful moaning noises.
Linnea is asleep, and for those of you keeping tabs on how well I'm nourishing my baby, she has had no bananas today (Yes, we have no bananas, we have no bananas today!) Those of you going "Huh?" will be interested to note that I was recently offered unsolicited advice here and I paid it the heed I usually do unsolicited advice - that is to say, I was indignant and infuriated at first, because I started to think "Wow, have I been feeding her too many bananas? What if she DIES in the NIGHT? someone's grandmother did, so my BABY might too! Onoes! Bananas KILL!" and then I recovered and was all like y'know "WHAT a drive-by mommying like WOW."
Only in English. Pardon me, I have no idea why I came over all funny, it could be because...
The baby is asleep! She went to sleep on her way home from the playground after dinner, at about 20:10, and stayed asleep when Rob laid her in her cot (fully clothed, we do NOT disturb sleeping babies in this house, though we do remove trailing bits of string and sharp knives). We are ecstatic. And a bit shocked.
I am scrumptious! It's like yummy, only refers to actual flavour as judged by infant. Today, Linnea wanted a lot of feeding, so I must be particularly tasty.
I wore my fabulous red shoes. I sloshed a bit of polish on them before going out because I let them get horribly worn down once before and I don't want to do that again. I should probably clean them properly with a leather-cleaner, then polish them again, but oof, the effort, no.
Still to come: proposed writing projects (oh, the irony!) and the desexualisation of mothers and why I am particularly annoyed by it.
Linnea just woke crying. Looks like that was a delayed afternoon nap, not a bedtime.
Linnea went to bed at 21:30. That's early for us these days. but it went smoothly and stresslessly and well, so perhaps we've broken the pattern now.
She used a new word for Rob today - he called "Linnea!" from another room, and she responded "Wha'?"
He swears this is true. She's a teenager now. Gods.
She's also going to be potty-trained soon. She's not ready for it, of course - she takes her nappy off alright, before squatting over the floor and passing wind or water (so far, thank god, nothing more), then points at the orifice in a surprised fashion and tells me all about it - but she has no interest in the potty.
Nor in the toilet.
No, my baby is ready for that all-important phase: Carpet Training!
So I've got her a potty training book and I've ordered a potty training video and another book from the library and I'm hoping that we can interest her in the potty somehow. She's surely too young for this. No-one else we know is even considering potty training. But no-one else we know can get their nappy off from the inside of tights, dungarees, trousers, or a snap-crotch top and does it frequently before soiling the nappy. Though admittedly the nappy does tend to get caught, as it were, in the crossfire.
You may have overheard me today in John Lewis, saying "Sweetheart, you peed on your feet and that's why you're slipping. Let me [grunt grunt] dry you off. Please."
Linnea woke us scremaing again last night. The first time woke me and Rob; he brought her into our bed and I'm not at all sure she woke up. The other times I know she didn't wake - and nor did he - and she cried out and wriggled and would not be consoled.
It's very sad, but she woke bright-eyed and bushy-tailed so it can't be that bad for her.
Today she went down for her nap at 2-ish and is still asleep now. I've decided that messing around with her sleep times causes more trouble than it's worth so I'm not doing it any more. I am going to reread The No Cry Sleep Solution and work on a better going-to-sleep routine, since the one we've got is complicated and exhausting.
And I'm going to buy her a bed, because putting her down into the cot is difficult for everyone. It's a long way down indeed. So what bed, and from where, and how do I choose a mattress? She should have a very firm one, I think, since her cot mattress is very firm and she sleeps well on floors.
Linnea was in bed shortly after 21:00 which means that something is working. She hasn't woken up yet, either.
She has developed a few going-to-sleep routine things that we need to quash as soon as we're happy with the timing of her sleep, though. Like making me nurse her to sleep lying down, rather than sitting up. For three times as long as she used to need.
We went swimming today; she took a while to get her confidence back after the freezing water on Thursday, but soon swam around self-propelled leaning on a long cylindrical float, chasing watering cans and balls and people.
... and now she's woken up, at 23:15.
Two mornings in a row I have had a genuine hones tto god lie-in until 9 am. It's amazing. Linnea's naptime is getting back into shape, and she's caught up on enough sleep that we think we can enforce "no napping after 3pm" without causing serious sleep issues.
We started by forcing her to wake up at 3:30 today. Tomorrow I will force 3 pm. I'm using banana muffins as my bait.