Rob and I are both doing better today - he slept almost all night through and I had several chunks of more than an hour each. Which, compared to Sunday night, was brilliant.

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.

We all had a rotten night. Linnea came into our bed with bad dreams. Emer came into our bed with pointy elbows. Emer in particular was very distressed and kept headbutting, kicking, and hitting. In her sleep. I kicked Rob awake so he could put the sleeping Linnea back in her own bed.

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).

But it's harder, truly, to be the lax one. Poor ole Rob ended up winding Linnea up so much she cried for over an hour, eventually working herself up into such hysterics that we had to get her out of the room so that Emer could sleep.

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.

I had a lovely nap in a shallow, very hot bath, waking when my nose slipped under the water, and then Emer joined me for boisterous scrubbing and nose-booping. Then we got out and dried off and the children and I are in pyjamas. Linnea wanted to phone Oisin but it's too late so she's drawing him a card isntead, and Emer is writing her name, apparently, but she sometimes says she's drawing a spider. Whatever it is, it's being folded into an envelope.

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.

A family of five descended on us like an inverse swarm of locusts, fed us, and bore off my firstborn. Mainly because they were leaving to go to town and she sat down and cried "My need a go a town TOO!"

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.

It's lovely.

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 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.

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.