Monday, 20 June 2016

My kids are conspiring against me

Little O is now 33 months, which in non-parent speak means nearly three years old. Baby R is 22 weeks, which in non-parent speak means nearly five months old. When he was about three months old something incredible and magical happened - he slept through.

Given, this was with a dream-feed at 11pm, but still, sleep is sleep. And with that a strange change happened. To properly explain what I mean, I think I need to describe the before and after.

BEFORE:

Baby R is a nightmare. I mean, a true and bonafide absolute demon from hell, sent to earth to show us why we should never have had more than one child. OK, so maybe I'm exaggerating a bit, but we were struggling. In reality, Baby R was probably oblivious to our vexation. He cried, he was cuddled. He pooped, he was changed, etc etc. Never mind that this was every two hours and my boobs were either on the verge of exploding in milk-fuelled volcano fashion, or they resembled the last pittas in the packet. And I was perpetually covered in puke. Aaanyway, you get the picture.


Meanwhile, little O is my angel. I mean, he still is my angel, just in a more challenging way (more about that momentarily). He eats all his food, he does what I ask him (most of the time), he freely cuddles me on the sofa, he even strokes baby Rs head...ah, those were the good times.

AFTER:

My two children seemed to have, without warning, swapped souls.

Little O has turned into a big pain in the neck. If he's not trying to drink the washing up water, he's emptying half a pint of milk over the kitchen floor, drawing on the walls, throwing toys and climbing absolutely everywhere.

'Hah', I hear you all cry, 'welcome to toddlerdom!' Fair enough, I suppose I did have it good for a while and I do accept he could be a lot worse, but OH MY GOD, Mummy needs a rest. Or at least a proper cuddle, instead of the head jumping that now usually occurs when I attempt a squeeze.

On the other hand, thankfully, baby R has calmed right down. What was probably a pesky case of reflux has now clearly resolved itself and I am now the proud owner of one seriously chilled out, delightful baby. Admittedly, he is now on formula and is taking a dummy which has helped him settle and therefore reduced the pressure on me somewhat. I would have loved to have been able to breastfeed him for longer but, at the end of the day, it was right for me to transition when I did and I have no regrets. He's healthy and happy and I'm happy too, and that's what's important.


So, in conclusion, are things better? Yes they are. Little O is testing, sure, but we now have a routine and I am in control. He's seeing how far he can push, checking where the boundaries are and I'm capable of showing him. The eyes in the front of my head are for them both but I have an extra two in the back of my head just for him.

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