We all know the equation for a poorly baby, right?
Poorly baby = Baby not wanting to be out down
Baby not wanting to be put down = Mummy’s hands full
Mummy’s hands full = Shit not getting done
Need some superpowers right about now please.
When you have a newborn you become quite an expert at doing things with one hand and a teeny tiny baby in the other. You relish in your new-found skills and seek challenges to test your abilities. Applying make-up, no problem, making a cuppa, easy. But those skills are time limited. In case you didn’t know, babies don’t stay tiny. They get bigger, heavier, wrigglier. Sometimes they attempt to dive out of your arms for no apparent reason and you need lightning reflexes for the catch. You no longer have a free arm. Add to the equation a bigger child to look after too and you will soon learn your limitations. Supermum I am not!
I can’t play Lego with the big one when holding the little one. As much as he begs me to. I can stick in a Disney DVD and watch it for the fourth time that day.
I can’t prepare a healthy snack of sliced apples and satsumas for the big one. I can feel the judgement of Annabel Karmel when I give him his bag of chocolate coins from his Christmas stash.
I can pace back and forth with the little one, singing, rocking, and doing whatever it takes to get him to have some much-needed sleep, for as long as it takes. I can’t stop the woman wanting to ask me if I would like to make a monthly donation to charity, hammering on the door as if she was being chased by an axe murderer, the very minute I the little one falls asleep in my arms.
I can breathe a sigh of relief when the little one stays asleep and hiss at the big one to stay away from the window and pretend we are not in. I can’t stop this annoying woman pressing her nose against the window and having a second go at hammering the door down.
I can open the door with the little one (by some miracle) still asleep in my arms, and shout in a whisper at the annoying woman some deranged ramblings from a very sleep deprived Mummy. I can’t apologise enough to the neighbours who got an eyeful of me in my PJ’s and bed head when I did so. At two in the afternoon.
I can’t make the big one sausages and mash as requested. I can shove some left over spag-bol in the microwave for him. At least he gets to eat. I can’t say the same for me.
I can’t hold in the contents of my bladder all day. At some point I do have to pee. I Can’t do this whilst holding the little one. I can put him in his cot to scream whilst I run next door to the bathroom singing wheels on the bus at the top of my voice the whole time.
I can’t look at the mountain of washing that is building without feeling mild heart palpitations. I can tell the big one he can have a PJ day tomorrow so the mountain doesn’t get any bigger.
I can’t prepare dinner for my husband when he gets home. Hell I can’t even say I’ll be showered or dressed. I Can say I will be very pleased to see him. I need the extra pair of hands!
Normal service shall be resumed once the little one’s antibiotics kick in. Please note, no children were neglected during the stint of this illness. They were very much loved and cared for. We just had to make a few compromises. Because I’m not Supermum, I’m just a regular mum doing my best. TV and chocolate will get us through!
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