Worried Bub

Bub very worried last night. Achieved record of waking half an hour after falling asleep, then cried like there was no way she could cope with all the world's problems. Poor bub. Took three hours to sort out.

I changed the nappy. For fresh start. Put bub back in cot. Bub looks me straight in the eye and, I swear to god, smiles. Then poops.

I change the nappy. Bub goes back in cot, turns over on her belly, and poops.

I change the nappy.

We play "roll over" for another two hours then bub sleeps. For two hours.

I think all this is an important developmental stage. Bub is simply very intelligent.

Sleep Facts and Sweden

Sleep fact: three hours in a row is better than four spread out over the night. But one solid hour is better than a half hour.

Up throughout night with bub every 90 minutes. First wake at 8.30pm, that is to say - not even I was even in bed at that time. She's going for some kind of new record.

I know. Am harping on about sleep. It's true that parents speak of sleep like a starving person speaks of food.

Of course, keep hearing and reading about babies who sleep from 6 to 6 and such. Who nap for a total of 5 hours per day and still mommy gets concerned when they sleep less. 5 hours. You're fucking kidding me.

A friend had a baby at the same time as me. She seems to have a schedule allowing for bikram yoga and outings to cafes. Hmm. Jealous. Do not deny friend this. It's just that... are our babies actually from different planets?

I think I should be able to get back to yoga when bub is one year old. Hopefully. If all goes well.

We're still in Sweden. Have loved this time with family and friends. Bub travels quite well, am not concerned about jet lag. Doesn't sleep anyway etcetera.

Have one week to go. Going to be very sad to leave. But then... I get to spend some time in the Byron paradise so can't complain.

Evil poison?

So bub seemed to get over the jet lag ok, after initially being a bit sore about the fact that we woke her in middle of night-sleep, and it was daylight on top of everything else...
Then has been waking earlier every night. Last night 1am. Like. 1. Am.
In desperation I gave up coffee today. Haven't been having coffee back in oz, at all. But love swedish coffee. And was quite conservative. Maybe two cups a day. Or three.

Amazingly she is now sleeping.

Two hours.

Coffee is evil poison. 

Everything fun is evil poison...

Colour code

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!

Good Idea?

So I thought what is a nice thing to do with our 3 month old?

And I landed on;  longhaul flight to Sweden!

In a week we fly.

Yesterday bub decided she no longer wishes to sleep in the sling. Only the cot will do. And only after three nappy changes, 17 re-swaddles and 49 dummy insertions.

Oh dear.

3 months old!

Celebrated the big occasion by baking vegan cake. Baby celebrated by learning to grab a toy and by trying to sit up. So advanced.

Cot Training

Sleep in the cot. Please baby, please. Please. That is all.

Going well

My girl is two months old, and I have had only two panic-attacks.

Entirely better than expected.

Days are spent roaming the streets wearing a babybjorn - and of course - a baby. Baby does not like to sleep in the cot. Or the bed. Or the pram. Only the bjorn. Only. The. Bjorn. 

Winter in Byron

Fish Drama

I mentioned previously on this blog that we had found ourselves living in a house with its very own fishpond. Suddenly pet-count was up from 1 to 32. Like, approximately.

Ponds are a genuinely bad idea. To top it off previous owners had drawn electricity to pond using totally insane and utterly illegal methods. Our electrician could not believe his eyes. Bill to fix; hefty. We death-defyingly left electrical mess as was.

Then suddenly had light bulb moment. Placed ad on gumtree re free fish, available for pick up. For some inexplicable reason we had loads of interest.

Fish are gone.

Woop.

But.

Two remain.

In the "hospital pond". This is a second, much smaller, pond built by previous owners. No electricity.

Anyway. Two sick fish. Asked hubby to kill them. Asked many times. Nagged,  you could say. Until this morning. Argued. Shouted. Kill the damn fish. Dammit.

Hubby decided to call me on it. Why him? Why can't I kill them? He's a fricking vegan. Couldn't think of anything to say so before I knew what was happening, had said fine. Fine. I will kill them. But never ask me how I did it.

How the freaking hell am I going to kill two fish???