For once the feed schedule you have tirelessly tried and beaten yourself up over when it failed, has started to stick giving your day some kind of shape. For once you feel like you have some control back. That your day is not just one long feeding session and that you have finally took a step towards some form of routine.
I am aware that the majority (probably all) of you will be feeling desperately sorry for my poor husband. Wondering what kind of manipulation and brain washing a wife must have to do in order for him to suggest such a thing. However, please let me put an end to any sympathy you may have by revealing that he is at it aswell and usually more often and for longer periods of time.
We spend nine months trying to live like organic angels verging on born again virgins, doing everything we can to grow a healthy little human. Buying into every miracle cream, vitamin and birthing class and book going. What keeps us committed through all the dry parties, the charcoaled steaks and inedible non runny eggs?
It's fitting, really, that in the month I've assigned, "Weaning with Respect Month", another self-appointed baby sleep trainer has taken the opportunity to show how little he/they knows/know about newborn babies, their nutritional needs, their slumber needs, and basically anything about anything related to any of their needs.
As if there is not enough pigeon holing of us mums already, as we endure fellow mums, relatives, friends and the old woman down the street trying to shoe horn us into a motherhood "type". We now have the latest stereotyping on the mum block that is "Momstrology". Yes you read right ladies. "Momstrology".
Babies and I have never really hit it off. But while I have never been that person who will coo on cue at the babies of strangers, I have a new-found appreciation of babies via my niece Leela who is just about The Best Thing Ever. When I visited my sister in the hospitable three weeks ago, I burst into tears at the sight of this tiny little person who hadn't even existed a year ago.
When I was pregnant with my second child, I thought about perfect and good. So this time around, I called three friends and made them promise: when my daughter was three months old, they were to call and ask me if she'd had any formula. I would not lie. If the answer was no, they had to come over and give it to her themselves.