Last week I spotted a request from a journalist with Independent.ie, asking for bloggers to talk about their “happy place”, as part of their Mind Yourself campaign.
As I’ve written about mental illness and my personal experiences with postnatal depression and the impact it’s had on my life, I thought this might be a good idea – there is so much doom and gloom around it that it is important to see the light at the end of the tunnel, the happy bits which make life worth living. I had a bit of a think about specific places which fill me with joy (currently a bubble bath with a glass of wine sounds fairly idyllic) and came to the conclusion that it isn’t really a physical place that I can pick. Read More
You snore. You get that from me – apparently, I don’t believe I snore but apparently I sound like a train breaking down, so if that’s to be believed then you take after me. You’re currently curled up in the foetal position, all 80cm of you managing to take up a considerable amount of bed space with your tiny frame. Though I put you sleeping on the pillow next to me, you’ve curled over so your foot is in my rib, your body stretched out across the rest of the bed, meaning that when I lie down, my head is aligned with your nappy. I pray for a peaceful night. Read More
Insomnia is never really a welcome friend to any house. I’ve never been a big fan of it – I like my sleep, comfy and duvet covered. It went without saying that the sleep deprivation caused by the installation of a baby into my life was tolerated (barely) but not loved. So when I finally manage to get a child who is sleeping (not sleeping the night, but sleeping in blocks that feel like it’s a full nights sleep) and I’m stuck staring at the wall at 3am, that’s really just a bad joke. One that really, really isn’t funny.
Last week I started having some slight breathing issues where simple things like walking and talking would make me so dizzy I had to sit down and stop, or risk falling over. In typical form, this initially happened on a treadmill, mid-physio session. Because, where else would you fancy almost fainting? Off I toddled to my GP, who after a quick listen to my chest announced my athsma had decided to flare up for the first time in a few years and I’d have to be on a course of steroids for the week. Grand, as long as it stops the forever dizziness, all was good. Or so I thought. I hadn’t weighed in the thought of how steroids affect sleep – something I’ve definitely learned a lesson from this week. Read More
In an attempt to give my 13 month old a routine; the decision was made on a random Thursday to ensure his solo naptime was in his cot, after crèche. Not the buggy. Not the bed. Certainly not on Mama’s chest on the sofa.
It’s certainly going well.
A while ago, I was wise enough to tell the internet about my incredible feat of parenting; my then almost toddler was sleeping in his own cot at a reasonable hour without major drama or fuss and for the most part staying there. A few nights in a row, I’ll add. I should have shut my mouth; we are right back where we started (regretting ever buying the useless piece of furniture he’s meant to be sleeping in). Read More
It seems to be one of the mysteries of parenthood. Some people have it cracked from the day dot. I’m convinced that they’re paying their children to sleep for them. And I’m tempted to try it. Others, not unlike myself, take a bit longer to get the knack of getting the little darlings to close their eyes, stop whining/shouting/making gurgling noises with their finger and lips, and settle into a slumber so Mammy can have some much needed downtime on the couch catching up on all things Shonda Rhimes (or whatever other show you’re currently engrossed in).
So what is this secret? Here are my steps to getting the child to concede to the land of sleepy time. Read More
I see an awful lot of 5.30ams these days. Previously, I would have looked on this as a time only acceptable from the other side; no sane person would ever willingly be up and awake at that hour, out of warm cosy bed and dealing with the freezing cold morning. These days however I come equipped with an alarm clock that can’t be silenced, as much as I shush him and attempt to grapple five more minutes of sleep, he is in control of the sleep and having gone to bed at 9pm the night before, he’s happily all done with that. Really, I should start going to bed that early myself… Read More
Been a bit quiet around here the last few days. Life has gotten busy, I’ve discovered the joys (sarcasm fully intended) of the late shift when you don’t get a lie in (a work day that ends at 8 when you’ve been up since potentially 5 is not fun), and I was feeling super proud of my sleeping child and my resolve in making my life healthier. Life was good, until I tried to make it better. Read More
It’s done. We’ve managed to complete a whole week without a nighttime co-sleep. While this was indeed helped by the fact that Nanny and Grandad took over for the weekend while Mammy and Daddy got some well-earned party and date time, it’s done. It’s an achievement.
It seems I am in no way destined to catch up with my post-a-day promise.
There’s a little boy asleep on my bed. Unfortunately it is in a position I’ll have to move him from; its a tad difficult to hop into bed when you’ve got an infant starfished out in the middle of it, on top of the duvet. But he is asleep, snoring his little heart out, smiling with one eye a tiny bit open like always, as if he will miss something if he closes both eyes and surrenders to sleep entirely. Read More
We’ve moved into our new place. We’re in that limbo area of still having the last place and needing to get everything out and the place deep-cleaned, and having very little stuff handy in the new place, but we’ve slept here overnight and theres milk in the fridge, so I guess its home now.
A week late, the amber necklace has arrived. Appropriately enough, it was ten minutes after the discovery of the package in my letterbox and the given amount of jumping for joy while sedately pushing the buggy, fearing waking the sleeping child, that I discovered a shop that sells them. In Cork. A place I’ve walked past every single day for the last week, but only spotted them today. Absolutely typical. Read More
It’s been a stressful kind of week. Manageable stress, but the kind that has the ability to drive you up the walls at the same time. Read More
I came across this linky blog post from Ojo’s World, which she is running through the month of June, and found it to be a little ray of sunshine. I got inspired to stop looking at whats going wrong on a day to day basis and take stock of everything that is going right, and everything which is making me smile. Read More
I never really gave much stock to the playing music to them in the womb thing. Sure, I tried it, didn’t really get much of a response at all to any music, barring a night when 8 months pregnant, stood fairly close to the DJ booth in a packed nightclub, with baba going mental to some song that was in the charts at the time. So I didn’t quite go full hung ho into the playing Mozart to E in the womb, in the hopes of him attaining 625 points the second he got into secondary school. He listened to what I listened to, which seemed to be mixture of sappy love songs, pop songs from the 90s and some Dubstep when his daddy decided that was what he should be exposed to from day one. Read More
Dear Vaccinations against horrible diseases I would never wish my son to get,
You are horrible folk. Yes I understand your intentions are noble. You wish to rid my son of the chance to get diphtheria, tetanus, whooping cough, polio, hepatitis B and HiB, and then some. I appreciate this intent, truly, those are rather horrible illnesses to get and I’m plenty sure that his standard of living is for the better to not experience them. Read More
10 days old, madly in love, but dear god the exhaustion.
We’re at home being looked after by my parents while waiting for the paternity leave to start. Recovering from a c-section in a house that doesn’t have stairs, with extra help with the night time wake ups is something else entirely. Furthermore its outside of the institutionalisation of the hospital. Never thought I’d be so glad to not have Weetabix for breakfast (still getting the toast!).
Last night he slept for a three and a half hour stint, two hours, and then another three hours. I woke up before him this morning. The feeling of waking up of my own accord instead of to screams for a feed is like heaven. It really is the little things. The night before we weren’t so lucky, he just kept waking and refusing to go back to sleep. One day at a time!
Little man is making a big impression with the relatives for his tiny stature. And to his credit, he’s quite good, will go to anyone, attempts to feed off everyone (regardless of gender or age, my boy is an equal opportunities breastfeeder), and falls asleep in most peoples arms. Now to just get him to do that at night time…
It DID get better from here, he did eventually learn to sleep, the exhaustion got better, and it was a journey where I learned a whole lot. Take a look around and see how we got on from here!
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