July 27, 2010
BIRTHDAY CHEERS TO BABIES OVER BOURBON

Give me Harry over a bottle of bourbon any day.

As my birthday ticked nearer and plans for the day were laid, I couldn't help smile to myself as I began to plan my perfect birthday.

How perfection for me has changed over the years.

What once would have been a night drinking to oblivion and wondering post birthday why my right knee hurt so much and how I ended up with a stamp on my hand from a nightclub I'd never heard of, has turned into a pathetic soppy kind of happiness.

The kind of happiness that would make a passer by do a little vomit in their mouth.

The kind of happiness that I once believed was fictional - created by writers to make an overwhelming portion of the population feel inadequate and discontent with their lives.

The kind of happiness that when described, is greeted with a roll of the eyes, a raised eyebrow and an unwillingness to believe that anyone could derive that much satisfaction from a movie, a home cooked meal, and a baby.

Having ascertained the face you are most likely to exhibit upon reading this, perhaps take a moment now to breath, relax, and loosen those tightly constricted facial muscles.

It is really not that hard to believe.

Never have presents been so fun to open, than with the clumsy help of 10 podgy little baby boy fingers.

Never have I felt like I have accomplished more in a year, than now with the little life I created looking up at me from the floor.

Never has a birthday night been so enjoyable, than with my two boys to cuddle, a glass of wine to sip, a movie I couldn't stay awake for...

...and let's not forget a baby that sleeps through the night.

Cheers to another year.

July 18, 2010
THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE, NOW SLEEPS THROUGH THE NIGHT

To all those who judged me, please enjoy swallowing the bitter bile of your discontent.

Seven days ago I began controlled crying, and today baby, mum, and dad are well slept and sporting smiles that could make the sternest opposer doubt their conviction, if only for a second.

I have endured the darkness of those first few nights and come out at the glorious seven o'clock sun on the other side (yes, he now sleeps until seven!).

I won't lie, it was far from easy. I have tried it before and fallen short of the discipline needed to succeed, but like so many people had told me, it really is only a few nights in hell for a lifetime in heaven (here's hoping).

Harry knows the routine now - what times he has solids, a breastfeed and a nap. He is content knowing what comes next, and sleep is no longer a losing battle. The icing on the cake is he is very rarely tired now, which means our time together is spent giggling and playing rather than pacing hallways patting his bottom and listening to the pained cords of his cries.

To all those who remain sceptics, I understand. Up until seven days ago I too toyed with the idea that controlled crying was a brutally cruel concept created by sadistic baby haters.

Let me assure you, it's not.

Harry is happier now than he ever was, and has 12 uninterrupted hours of sleep a night! Dan and I have left the night walkers to there broken sleep and grumpy moods and are once again enjoying the blissful feeling that comes from snuggling into your warm bed and knowing you will not rise again until after the sun.

I know you won't believe me until you try, and supposing that you never do, please at least try to be kinder to the mother's that do.

At the end of the night we are all just trying to do the best for our bubs, it's just that for some of us those nights run a little smoother.

To all those tired mum's reading this and hating me, please know I understand how you feel. But after seven months of broken sleep and endless rocking, I think I've earned the right to gloat just a little.

Ok, I'm done now.

July 11, 2010
MY WAR ON SLEEP CONTINUES. MUM 1. HARRY 1.
Dear Harry, forgive me.

Imagine a plaster being ripped from an open wound. This is how much it hurt, and no, I'm not referring to labour.

Controlled crying. It saddens me to say, but last night we tried it. Seems an ironic name considering I was anything but controlled.

An hour and a half. Like a spur digging into my chest and twisting, each heart breaking cry made me whimper a little more. For an hour and a half my muscles scrunched up tighter and my thick choking breath grew heavy in my chest.

Poor Harry, I can only imagine what your little muscles must have felt like.

Every 10 minutes I ran to your room to comfort your cries and wipe the tears from your flushed cheeks, only to have to pull myself away a minute later. I lay face buried in the cushions as I willed the minutes to pass quickly so I could hold you once again.

For your own good I told myself. I was doing this for your own good.

Those cries did not say “mummy where are you?”, no they said “I want to sleep but I can't, mummy why can't I sleep?”.

Too many sleepless nights, and a sad little boy who fought shut eye to the tip of exhaustion and back is what led me to consider more drastic actions.

Actions for your own good my little Harry. I promise it was all for your own good.

To be able to shut your eyes with a smile on your face and an excited anticipation for the dreams that will follow, this is what I wanted to give you.

I used to curse the concept of control crying like so many of you out there will be cursing me now.

I endured it last night, and doubted my ability to ever do it again.

To my pleasant surprise as I carried my little boy to bed tonight, I noticed a smile on his face. He fell asleep in his cot without uttering a single cry.

Three hours later the house still sits in a strange silence, and I struggle to believe that my war with sleep is over. It could not have been that easy.

I hope that it was.

Until morning, goodnight and hopefully...sleep tight.

July 1, 2010
MY BOY THE BUBBLE-BUTT

I'm the proud mum of a bubble-butt son.

We have dared to ditch the disposable diaper, and join the growing crowd of elite cloth nappy users.

I know, shock horror!

A few decades ago a disposable diaper was a guilty privilege rarely indulged in by the average mother – or so my mum tells me.

The popularity of the disposable grew until the words 'cloth nappy' were so foreign that when muttered in a circle of mums, they would be greeted with nothing but blank expressions and looks of confusion.

It appears the winds have changed once again, and are now being caught more often by the cushion comfort of the cloth nappy.

Today cloth is the new cool crowd (this is not why I switched...I swear), and the colours, shapes and styles are mind boggling! Yet so very exciting.

To all you childless folk out there with your mouths open in disgust, you can shut them now. I know what you are thinking! No amount of pretty patterns and trendy studs could make the idea of washing poo off a soiled diaper any less cringe worthy.

To that I can say only one thing. You have obviously never had to buy disposable diapers.

Disposable nappies are so expensive that when I used to change Harry's nappy, I actually took my time in the hope that he'd do a wee on me! This way he'd soil me instead of a nappy, and save me a whopping 48 cents.

Hey it adds up, trust me.

Granted I would then smell like wee, but these are the sacrifices we unemployed mums have to make! That was however, until I found the glorious cloth nappy.

Ok, so I may need to use cloth nappies for a little more than a few weeks before publicly shouting my excitement from this blog page. But if nothing else, damn his butt looks cute in those nappies!

I have a feeling this cloth nappy thing will be a piece of piss! Sorry, I couldn't help myself.