I woke up (was woken up) this morning full of good intentions to get a list of things done before the weekend. The baby was cheerful, it looked like it might even be sunny – good times!
Starting upstairs I got to work changing the bed and was frankly feeling pretty virtuous. However the baby is teething and within minutes he was lodging a complaint about his lack of attention. Propped up on a pillow he began his low monotonous grumbling. With only a fitted bed sheet to put on I thought I was home and dry but apparently every one of the sheets we have had shrunk in a magical Alice in Wonderland type way. After numerous attempts in an increasingly hot room at pulling the mattress up to stretch the sheet onto the last corner just to have the other side ping off and with the baby protests getting louder, I stood up and something pinged in my back. I may be alone here but it’s amazing how trying to complete even a simple task with an unhappy baby turns me irrational, emotional and uncoordinated. Finally I realised it was time to admit defeat before I started getting angry with the baby. Leaving the bedroom looking like a ghost massacre I took the baby downstairs. Now writing this I can see that I made the rookie error of starting anything without a very large cup of coffee. Re-fuelled and with a to do list revised to ‘make the bed’ I’m off to try again, wish me luck.