Morning 5 am. Third night feed. Firmly swaddle baby and put baby back in cot. Even though there is now the faintest hint of daylight outside and the cockaburras are laughing. My husband is asleep, still I whisper by way of explanation: "he needs to learn how to sleep until 6."
Then. Oh God. SHE. SHEEEEE needs to... you know.
And now I know why baby clothes irritatingly often are pink or blue. It's a code. A failsafe to inform overtired parents of baby's gender.
What's this thing now... oh yeah right. The baby. Pink pj's? Brill, yes yes, a girl. I knew that.
As a mother you begin to see your day as 24 blocks of 60 minutes each.
A few blocks later we are trying for a nap. It's been an hour and a half, four nappy changes (three of which were poos) and countless other tricks.
I should be packing. Tomorrow we go to Sweden!
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