T has been to the doc. The husband and I figured that, sadly, his sudden penchant for sleeping probably wasn't due to our fantastic parenting skills or some sort of miracle, but that he obviously wasn't 100%. Granted, we had been enjoying the unbroken nights until we figured this out. Yesterday he slept twelve and a half hours overnight and had three daytime naps, the longest of which was three hours! I almost didn't want to take him to be checked out.
Once he'd had his temperature taken, chest listened to and ears looked in, the good doctor diagnosed Not-Quite-Himself-itis, probably viral, but sent us away with a bottle of lurid yellow Amoxycillin, just in case. It must be bad because, despite his massive pride at finally getting the hang of this walking lark a couple of weeks ago, T has reverted to crawling again, refusing even to bear weight on his legs, and holding his hands out to be carried.
Fingers crossed we see an improvement quickly, although his illness probably also explains why our Christmas tree remains standing. A well boy would have pulled it down by now. Wouldn't he?
Saturday, 6 December 2008
Christmas, hormones and sickness
A lethal combination. I just cried at an advert for 'Miracle on 34th Street' on Channel 4.
Rebecca Believes. Waaaaaaaaah!
Rebecca Believes. Waaaaaaaaah!
Tuesday, 2 December 2008
What a difference a year makes
This time last year I had flash of crafty inspiration and decided to make T a personalised Christmas stocking. Well, it was either inspiration or guilt at having given him an unusual name. There'll be no personalised pencils for him, he wont even be able to buy one of those little enamel brooches they sell at the zoo in the shape of an elephant, but who cares, because he has a red felt sack with Mummy's special applique on it!
As referenced here, my skills (again) didn't quite match my enthusiasm though, so the two stocking shapes are stuck together with iron on hemming, although the letters (made with a felted jumper) are stitched on by hand, as are the holly leaves. The berries are small red buttons. I love buttons.
Anyway, as Christmas drew ever closer last year and my husband came home from work to 'I've finished the T and half of the O' or 'I'm almost ready to start the I!', I managed the (not insubstantial) feat of breastfeeding and sewing at the same time. This is much more difficult than other 'whilst breastfeeding' tasks, my favourite of which was eating, because it does matter if you drop the bits into your small son's ear in the process. Pizza crumbs not too bad, sharp needle, very bad.
Major accidents averted, the stocking was finished on Christmas Eve, and, in the hunt for obligatorily humiliating photos to show his future girlfriends, we stuck him in it to take a picture. Of course it was only fitting then to try the same yesterday when the stocking was retrieved from the Christmas decorations suitcase, a little scrumpled but still very much intact and ready for its second outing. This is when I am glad of a teeny boy, as he just about squeezed in. Next year I imagine he'll run around, wearing it as a hat.
What a difference a year makes, eh?
I'm feeling very Christmassy today.
As referenced here, my skills (again) didn't quite match my enthusiasm though, so the two stocking shapes are stuck together with iron on hemming, although the letters (made with a felted jumper) are stitched on by hand, as are the holly leaves. The berries are small red buttons. I love buttons.
Anyway, as Christmas drew ever closer last year and my husband came home from work to 'I've finished the T and half of the O' or 'I'm almost ready to start the I!', I managed the (not insubstantial) feat of breastfeeding and sewing at the same time. This is much more difficult than other 'whilst breastfeeding' tasks, my favourite of which was eating, because it does matter if you drop the bits into your small son's ear in the process. Pizza crumbs not too bad, sharp needle, very bad.
Major accidents averted, the stocking was finished on Christmas Eve, and, in the hunt for obligatorily humiliating photos to show his future girlfriends, we stuck him in it to take a picture. Of course it was only fitting then to try the same yesterday when the stocking was retrieved from the Christmas decorations suitcase, a little scrumpled but still very much intact and ready for its second outing. This is when I am glad of a teeny boy, as he just about squeezed in. Next year I imagine he'll run around, wearing it as a hat.
What a difference a year makes, eh?
I'm feeling very Christmassy today.
The white stuff
"Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is ..." well, OK, we haven't got a fire (we have got a fireplace, currently home to T's massive toychest, but naked flames and curious toddlers don't really mix) but the frightful bit is pretty true. Yes, it's snowing!
T and I woke this morning to a carpet of snow, and not your cheap nylon carpet either, a luxurious deep shagpile with extra-thick underlay, a clear 6 inches or so of crunchy pure cold powder. Our joy lasted only a short time though when we discovered that snow on a big (ungritted) hill in a town with only one road in and out was likely to cause traffic chaos, evidenced by the fact it took me almost 2 hours to do the round trip between Rammy and Totty to get T to nursery, a distance of less than 5 miles.
Of course I gave up any hope of getting over the 62 to Leeds. Scary traffic reports of snow ploughs at Ainley Top, and the fact my feet, even in tights, socks and boots, were already freezing, meant I came home to work. Sitting on the sofa wrapped in a blanket with the laptop, I've calmed my frustration with chocolate buttons (succesful) and started making calls. If this morning is anything to go by (and the snow continues to fall!) in a couple of hours it'll be time to set off to pick up T again.
T and I woke this morning to a carpet of snow, and not your cheap nylon carpet either, a luxurious deep shagpile with extra-thick underlay, a clear 6 inches or so of crunchy pure cold powder. Our joy lasted only a short time though when we discovered that snow on a big (ungritted) hill in a town with only one road in and out was likely to cause traffic chaos, evidenced by the fact it took me almost 2 hours to do the round trip between Rammy and Totty to get T to nursery, a distance of less than 5 miles.
Of course I gave up any hope of getting over the 62 to Leeds. Scary traffic reports of snow ploughs at Ainley Top, and the fact my feet, even in tights, socks and boots, were already freezing, meant I came home to work. Sitting on the sofa wrapped in a blanket with the laptop, I've calmed my frustration with chocolate buttons (succesful) and started making calls. If this morning is anything to go by (and the snow continues to fall!) in a couple of hours it'll be time to set off to pick up T again.
Monday, 1 December 2008
A new name
Perhaps I should rename this blog. Adventures of an always sleeping toddler maybe? It appears that now T's got the hang of it, that's all he wants to do.
On Saturday night, following a busy day of playing, he went to sleep at 7.30 pm and didn't wake until 7 am Sunday. I'd been out for the night, an early Christmas catch-up with the mums I met at aquanatal classes whilst I was pregnant, and even my not-quite-sober stumblings at 3 am didn't rouse him. I couldn't quite bring myself to get out of bed after only four hours sleep (self inflicted I know) so T had a feed lying down and then got up with Daddy for breakfast and, before long, a nap. A nap! Without fuss! Without having to resort to a long walk with the pram, or a drive in the car, or being pinned to the sofa, boob in mouth (good job really, not sure Daddy would quite cut the mustard on that front). He had another long nap in the afternoon before going to bed last night at 8 and sleeping until 7.30 am. I gave him big cuddles and made a giant fuss of how good he was to have slept ALL night in his OWN bed, but he obviously hadn't quite finished as after a little milk he went back down until 9 am!! He's had breakfast and a shower, dressed and then, as we collected up the library books from his bookcase to return today, his eyelids started to droop, so I put him into bed and guess what? He's sleeping! I never thought I'd say this but I hope this wears off soon, I'm starting to miss my son, although the house has never been cleaner!!
In other news, we've had a fun last few days. T has enjoyed meeting Father Christmas for the first time (and not crying!) and
opening his first advent calendar. Strictly speaking this isn't his first, but last year he was 12weeks old and on a Mummy-milk only diet, so I had to open it and eat all of the chocolates for him.
On Saturday night, following a busy day of playing, he went to sleep at 7.30 pm and didn't wake until 7 am Sunday. I'd been out for the night, an early Christmas catch-up with the mums I met at aquanatal classes whilst I was pregnant, and even my not-quite-sober stumblings at 3 am didn't rouse him. I couldn't quite bring myself to get out of bed after only four hours sleep (self inflicted I know) so T had a feed lying down and then got up with Daddy for breakfast and, before long, a nap. A nap! Without fuss! Without having to resort to a long walk with the pram, or a drive in the car, or being pinned to the sofa, boob in mouth (good job really, not sure Daddy would quite cut the mustard on that front). He had another long nap in the afternoon before going to bed last night at 8 and sleeping until 7.30 am. I gave him big cuddles and made a giant fuss of how good he was to have slept ALL night in his OWN bed, but he obviously hadn't quite finished as after a little milk he went back down until 9 am!! He's had breakfast and a shower, dressed and then, as we collected up the library books from his bookcase to return today, his eyelids started to droop, so I put him into bed and guess what? He's sleeping! I never thought I'd say this but I hope this wears off soon, I'm starting to miss my son, although the house has never been cleaner!!
In other news, we've had a fun last few days. T has enjoyed meeting Father Christmas for the first time (and not crying!) and
opening his first advent calendar. Strictly speaking this isn't his first, but last year he was 12weeks old and on a Mummy-milk only diet, so I had to open it and eat all of the chocolates for him.He's also learnt to dance, and is enjoying a Christmas mix tape which his Dad made me last year, especially Darlene Love's 'Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)' from Phil Spector's fantastic 'A Christmas Gift For You'.
To be honest, if I'd had that much excitement I'd probably want to sleep too!
To be honest, if I'd had that much excitement I'd probably want to sleep too!
Saturday, 29 November 2008
The sleep fairy has been!
Last night T got into bed whilst Daddy read him a story. Daddy said night night, turned off the light and left the room to do some jobs (well trained that man!) After two minutes he noticed T had gone a bit quiet. Not wanting to disturb him, he waited 5 minutes until he felt brave enough to peep round the door, where he found him asleep (self-settled!) and snoring his cute baby snore.
We sneaked into bed, doing the whole 'don't wake the boy' routine and fell asleep, expecting the tinny baby-monitor cry to come at any moment. It didn't. I woke at 5, 6 and then 7 for the day. There were two grown-ups in the bed and the nursery was silent. At 8 am T woke, happy from 12 hours (count em!) of undisturbed sleep!
Eureka! I cried (which is where we're going today, more later) and I hope this is just the start!
We sneaked into bed, doing the whole 'don't wake the boy' routine and fell asleep, expecting the tinny baby-monitor cry to come at any moment. It didn't. I woke at 5, 6 and then 7 for the day. There were two grown-ups in the bed and the nursery was silent. At 8 am T woke, happy from 12 hours (count em!) of undisturbed sleep!
Eureka! I cried (which is where we're going today, more later) and I hope this is just the start!
Monday, 24 November 2008
Adventures in Sherwood Forest
We are just back from four days at Center Parcs in Nottingham to celebrate my FIL's 60th birthday. Spending such a time in close confines with my entire extended family (MIL, FIL, BIL, SIL, their two children, H, T and I) probably wouldn't be relaxing at any time, but this weekend we were treated to a number of adventures, just to keep us on our toes. They follow, in broadly chronological order!
1) Whilst toddling across the baby pool (Grandpa and Grandma were overjoyed to see T walk to them, we'd not told them he'd got the hang of it, so it was a real surprise when he tottered over to them!) T fell and scraped his chin against the concrete pool side. Thankfully, although scabby and unsightly, this doesn't cause any lasting damage.
2) We put T to bed in the CP cot, next to the double bed in the upstairs room. The cot has a drop side, which I leave down better to shush pat him when he wakes in the night. The bedguard is in place on the opposite side for when he (undoubtedly) needs to come in with us in the early hours. At around 2 am I am awoken with a crash and a scream. No sign of T, who has disappeared from the cot. Yes, our son had decided to try and climb out of his cot, onto the bed so he can snuggle in with us. He's done this silently and in near total darkness (blackout curtains plus villa in the middle of the forest) and when he misjudged the distance, has slipped inbetween the cot and the bed and fallen to the floor, where he is trapped. I figure this out in a confused sleep fug, rescue him, curse the cot (and myself for leaving the side dropped) and he sleeps with us for the rest of the long weekend.
3) T, who normally enjoys swimming, especially with Grandpa, has a meltdown in the pool, which continues once dressed and back at the villa. He eventually goes to sleep but is breathing v rapidly and bright red. When we take his temperature it is more than 39 degrees, 30 minutes after a dose of Calpol. Cue a mad dash to a Nottingham hospital, baby in only his nappy, draped in damp flannels, to be checked out. Thankfully it's only a chest and ear infection, but we have managed to both miss Grandpa's special birthday meal, and of course spoil it for everyone else as they're worried sick!
Phew. I was almost glad to be home this evening, even with a black bin bag stuffed full of dirty washing (yes, after 4 days, where does it all come from??!) and a car full of random baby paraphanalia to unpack.
In the interests of fairness though there were also some great moments.
1) Seeing T play with his cousins, who adore him, especially now he's 'interactive' (they were less enamoured with their prostrate youngest relative last Christmas)
2) Long walks in the woods, and watching Grandpa on the climbing frame. What's the 60th birthday equivalent of a mid-life crisis? A two-thirds life crisis?
3) Truly being able to relax and be myself, and realising that, for all the complaining I do, there's nothing better than family.
But of course I can't end on such tweedom can I?? Following on from the advocado fiasco, I have also, in the course of our long weekend, managed to compile a new list of words which my MIL mispronounces. I've never been able to figure out those funny shapes in the Oxford English Dictionary, so this is my own version.
1) Humous - Hoo-muss
2) Tortilla - Tort-ill-a
3) Fajita - Fadge-it-a
Snigger.
1) Whilst toddling across the baby pool (Grandpa and Grandma were overjoyed to see T walk to them, we'd not told them he'd got the hang of it, so it was a real surprise when he tottered over to them!) T fell and scraped his chin against the concrete pool side. Thankfully, although scabby and unsightly, this doesn't cause any lasting damage.
2) We put T to bed in the CP cot, next to the double bed in the upstairs room. The cot has a drop side, which I leave down better to shush pat him when he wakes in the night. The bedguard is in place on the opposite side for when he (undoubtedly) needs to come in with us in the early hours. At around 2 am I am awoken with a crash and a scream. No sign of T, who has disappeared from the cot. Yes, our son had decided to try and climb out of his cot, onto the bed so he can snuggle in with us. He's done this silently and in near total darkness (blackout curtains plus villa in the middle of the forest) and when he misjudged the distance, has slipped inbetween the cot and the bed and fallen to the floor, where he is trapped. I figure this out in a confused sleep fug, rescue him, curse the cot (and myself for leaving the side dropped) and he sleeps with us for the rest of the long weekend.
3) T, who normally enjoys swimming, especially with Grandpa, has a meltdown in the pool, which continues once dressed and back at the villa. He eventually goes to sleep but is breathing v rapidly and bright red. When we take his temperature it is more than 39 degrees, 30 minutes after a dose of Calpol. Cue a mad dash to a Nottingham hospital, baby in only his nappy, draped in damp flannels, to be checked out. Thankfully it's only a chest and ear infection, but we have managed to both miss Grandpa's special birthday meal, and of course spoil it for everyone else as they're worried sick!
Phew. I was almost glad to be home this evening, even with a black bin bag stuffed full of dirty washing (yes, after 4 days, where does it all come from??!) and a car full of random baby paraphanalia to unpack.
In the interests of fairness though there were also some great moments.
1) Seeing T play with his cousins, who adore him, especially now he's 'interactive' (they were less enamoured with their prostrate youngest relative last Christmas)
2) Long walks in the woods, and watching Grandpa on the climbing frame. What's the 60th birthday equivalent of a mid-life crisis? A two-thirds life crisis?
3) Truly being able to relax and be myself, and realising that, for all the complaining I do, there's nothing better than family.
But of course I can't end on such tweedom can I?? Following on from the advocado fiasco, I have also, in the course of our long weekend, managed to compile a new list of words which my MIL mispronounces. I've never been able to figure out those funny shapes in the Oxford English Dictionary, so this is my own version.
1) Humous - Hoo-muss
2) Tortilla - Tort-ill-a
3) Fajita - Fadge-it-a
Snigger.
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