At half past seven she comes in with a sheepish grin and I pass the baby to my husband to prepare to cuddle her. Something wasn’t right. She smelled of poo! She hadn’t had an accident for over a month! But I guess whilst she’s in deep sleep it doesn’t count. Unfortunately she’s stuck her fingers in the diaper since the accident too. On that first morning I was sent off on a wild goose chase after her trail of things she’s touched, after I had stuck her in the shower to hose her down.
Sheets changed on both her bed and ours, I settled down to read with and to feed my baby, and I still find poo on her. On her ear where she’d scratched it. I also find some later on in the day. To top it all off, sometime that morning, when the baby was crying I saw to my horror the toddler stuck her index finger into her mouth to pacify her! I hope I had gotten out all the traces of faeces from that finger.
Crappy morning aside, I tried unsuccessfully to make pizza that day as Fridays were usually pizza night. First I forgot the yeast in the dough so it was added as an after thought. Then I forgot to get the salami and pepperoni so unless I was making margheritas for dinner, it just wouldn’t cut it. We ended up with a Tuscan sausage soup for dinner.
The toddler wouldn’t nap, which meant that I couldn’t get too much rest myself. But she did surprise me with loads of independent play ( amazing what games some silicone cupcake mounds can inspire in a toddler’s mind) so that I managed to get a few Black Friday deals and make our meals. For our trip out for the day, I tried to do our weekly shop with the toddler and bub in tow. I thought it may be challenging but Ms 2 yr 8 mths proved to be the best little helper. She managed to pull the trolley around the shop, piling it with groceries, then she unloaded it onto the conveyor belt and subsequently loaded them into the pram’s shopping basket after they’d been scanned through and paid for. Amazing effort!
Just as I am struggling through the day with sleep deprivation and the onset of a cold, the toddler brings me a cup of pretend tea which really warms the cockles of my heart.
That evening I looked forward to crawling into bed at nine pm when the toddler’s gone to bed. Mr Hea was tasked with the bedtime feed for the baby. What could possibly go wrong?
He doesn’t screw the bottle on properly and my expressed milk all comes spilling out as soon as he’s put it in. He then pulls out formulae and proceeds to feed her on our bed whilst catching up with me on the day. Before I know it, our baby is throwing up on the new sheets because she has taken the formula too quickly and it is too heavy for her. Mr HEA hasn’t bothered to use the hand towel I had suggested he use as a bib so I am dragged out of bed to change the baby and the sheets again. As the husband tries to hurry me back to bed, grabbing the bub, he bobs her head on the cupboard and she doesn’t like it. Just in case this doesn’t round up the brilliant day, the onesie I’ve grabbed off the pile for my baby announces,”My Mummy thinks she’s in charge. That's cute.”
I think I’ve been owned.
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