My inbox still looks like that of a childless, dual income 20-something and it’s like torture but for some reason I just can’t hit unsubscribe!
The double whammy of suddenly having no income plus buying a house has left me no choice but to go on a shopping starvation diet but yet, like a furtive addict, I continue to read my Secret Sales newsletters and my Shopstyle alerts. Sometimes I even visit the sites and put things in my shopping basket – just for fun. This morning at 5:30am It was a vintage Prada handbag. I didn’t even buy any designer things when I had disposable income!
My days of gallivanting off on weekends away for no reason other than “we had no other plans” are long gone (at least for the next 18 years or so) yet I still look at my Trip Advisor bulletins and Secret Escapes newsletters, lustfully reading about refurbished country house hotels with bathtubs in the bedrooms and Michelin star chefs who’ll make you eggs benedict and deliver it to you in bed. My breakfast this morning was an after dinner mint, an orange Quality Street and a can of Pepsi max*. Song kick continue to tell me about gigs I might like to go to based on the music on my iTunes, @Rebelbingo still let me know about the latest nights they’re doing, I even had an email recently telling me there was still time to get Glastonbury tickets! I mean Glastonbury with a 4 month old, really. But come to think of it, I would be much more equipped to deal with the day 5 stink of the long-drops now I’ve lived with princess poo-poo for 4 months…
I know it’s sick and wrong to be voyeuristically checking out what’s going on in my old life whilst I’m in my new one, but I just can’t help it. I’ve included links to my biggest temptresses so you can join me. You know you want to…and if you’re wondering, that hotel in the picture is <a href=”http://
I live in The House Of Sport. Every day I am treated (read “subjected”) to Sky Sports, Sky Sports News, Breakfast TV Sport, and/or matches of whatever is on at the time. If we’re in the car, sometimes I get to listen to sport as well. Sometimes my hubby will even read articles to me that he thinks I may be interested in*. Though I’m not into sport myself, I don’t really mind** that I’m constantly surrounded by it. I have a method of coping with sport that you might find handy during the World Cup; my attitude? If you can’t beat ’em join ’em. Have a look here.
**The exception is The Ashes which seems to go on for about 6 months and the matches last ALL DAY.
I was kicking myself for having trained my baby to sleep like a log in her own cot with minimal fuss. To sleep, she won’t be held, she won’t be sitting up, she won’t even be stroked. All she needs is to lie down in her cot and have her dream sheep on. Sure it’s inconvenient when I’m out to lunch, but as I lie here on the bed next to her waiting for her to go to sleep in an unfamiliar house, I can’t help but be a little but grateful for the fact that I get to have a little 15 minute escape from whatever I’m doing and to have a little lie down myself.
Serena is 4 months today. I decided to celebrate by treating her to a rusk – something to gnaw on (under supervision obv) that isn’t her own hand. She sucked at it for a bit but then got bored and frustrated shoved it down the side of her seat and cried at me, looking both puzzled and angry.
So I made a paste out of it using some warm baby milk and tried to feed it to her off her new spoon. She had absolutely no idea how to use a spoon, eat solids or swallow what was in her mouth. Instead she ejected every morsel I attempted to give her with a massive “PFFFFFFFTH” raspberry spit, (mainly in my face). I persevered for a bit until we were both covered in it, and she was crying. I find that’s usually one of the more obvious social queues to end a meal so I gave up and put her in the bath where she quite happily tried to drink the bath water.
Think I’ll leave the solids and stick to the milk for now. It’s not like she needs it to sleep through (I’m the one writing this at 4am whilst everyone around me, including the baby, snores).
It’s my wedding anniversary today and while my husband was at work I slept in our marital bed with someone else for the first time. It was Hannah. We both have colds and yet I decided that this would be the week that I would train her (not that she’s a dog) to sleep in her cot (and no she isn’t 6 months old yet) DURING THE DAY. She’s not having any of it, at least not for more than 15 minutes at a time. Anyway, after an hour of bargaining (which basically involved me rubbing her nose and her screaming) I agreed that she could sleep in my bed with me (I SERIOUSLY needed to sleep). I was s***ing myself. I barricaded the edges of the bed with pillows, put her in a low tog sleeping bag, grabbed the bottom of it and wedged it under my backside so that she couldn’t actually move, and stayed awake watching her sleep for about 25 minutes because I was too scared of rolling over and squashing her. I did drop off in the end but it’s fairly clear who won that little game.
The thing is, when I was in hospital the only way that I could get her to sleep was on my tummy. And I did it when I got home. To be honest I grew to love what I call “naughty nap time” – and still do. The problem is so does Hannah, and I need to convince her of the benefits of sleeping on your own pdq – she starts nursery in 2 months! Wish me luck.