Friday, 10 March 2017
Well, I’m feeling quite chipper this morning. I actually slept in my own bed, next to my husband for most of the night. Not all of the night, obvs but it’s a bit of a breakthrough. The charging round the park seems to have paid off. I am off to work today with my laptop. I am currently typing on my way to work. I am wearing a faux fur leopard print coat so I look a bit of a ponce. In my eyes, I am south west London’s answer to Carrie Bradshaw but I probably resemble a rotund big cat who should step away from the Viennese whirls. However, I am sporting a strong red lip. This detracts from the bags under my eyes.
So, you may be wondering what happens at night? How does this adorable little lass turn into a gremlin after dark. I don’t water her and I don’t feed her after midnight so where does it go wrong? We are now at the stage by where if anyone else goes in at night (her father included), my small person let’s out a scream which sounds like she’s being abducted by masked men. It’s truly ear drum bursting. The other night, I was too shattered and ill with a chest infection to deal with her so I was a terrible mother and let her cry for a bit. My husband decided to take one for the team and go in. Sweet. Mother. Of. Pearl. I’ve never heard nowt like it. It went on for half an hour. An ear splitting scream that ricocheted around the walls. I thought that we had disturbed the neighbours as our door buzzer went at 2 in the morning but apparently it was the police. It’s ok. No one had dobbed us in for being crap parents. They were looking for a missing person. (Crap parents don’t paint their daughters walls with Farrow & Ball paint. I had suggested to my husband that we could probably colour match and go to Homebase but he was having none of it. Only the best for his little girl and it did go on for very well. Good coverage. Nice overall effect).
The noise was so loud that the foxes didn’t bother going through the recycling and shitting next to the tub of daffs. Every cloud. I gave in and as soon as I went in the noise magically stopped. Part of you as mother thinks “Yeah, I got the magic touch” but after nearly two years that feeling has kind of worn off. I lay down on the spare duvet and presented my “paw” into the cot. She conked out until 7.
So what is this “paw” I hear you cry? Well, my daughter is a rather tactile old fart. I think it comes from being brestfed but then again I think a lot of things and most of those turn out to be utter bolllocks. She has always been gorgeously cuddly and loves holding hands and rubbing my wrist. She has done this since I stopped breastfeeding and likes to do it whilst she has her bottle. No- she won’t take a cup and she won’t drink cow’s milk. Good old cow and gate it is.
The love of Mummy’s paw has gradually crept into the night time ritual. This entails me lying next to her, placing my right hand through the sixth bar of the cot and waiting pensively for her to go into a deep sleep whilst listening to several rounds of the harp music of Ewan the dream sheep. It has to be the right hand as there is no watch or rings to irritate her and it has to be the sixth bar because that is most comfortable for her. Other than that, she’s not high maintenance at all! I know when she’s in a deep sleep as she snores like an overweight, middle aged man with sleep apnoea. At this point I gradually remove my paw and literally back out the room like someone from the bomb disposal unit. Some nights this is all it takes. I might have to go in once or twice on my paw patrol (as my husband now calls it) but other nights the spare bedding is placed on the floor as she wants to hold my hand all night. Removing my hand is like playing Buckaroo. Ya never know when it’s gonna kick off. So this has been the way it is since we moved house in October of last year. We have a really nice bedroom and a very comfy bed with memory foam pillows. Sadly, it’s been so long that my pillow has now forgotten me.
Anyway, I am due to go out tonight and my man is in charge. I’m not going very far. I wonder what sort of night I shall have? Paw patrol at the ready.
Here I am, staring into space with that zombified, morning look on my face. I stare at my laptop. What am I going to write today? I am sat ...
Over the past few weeks I have been stuck in a world of poo. I have a 2 year old that is ready to be potty trained if only she would sit ...
The Curious incident of the Dog in Padstow. I'm back. After a 3 weeks leave of absence I'm back in the blogosphere, coming at y...
Hello. I'm Harriet, a 38 year old voice over artist, wife to a gorgeous husband with labradoresque energy and first time mum to a spirit...