Today our son is three weeks old, the pain of childbirth is already a distant memory and my stitches have healed to the point I can sit down on the loo, huzzah!
However my cognitive abilities are somewhat diminished. I’ve lost my glasses. I need them to drive, thankfully I have prescription sunglasses so as long as it remains sunny I can drive without causing a pile -up.(No night time driving for me!) The hunt continues. I spill more drinks then I care to mention, my carpet is now covered in: baby sick, milk, water, squash and the remains of whatever the cats have murdered. I keep forgetting to brush my teeth. I keep forgetting to eat. I forget to drink, then when I do remember, chances are I chuck said drink over the carpet. A lot of my mental miss-haps (I couldn’t confidently tell you the date today) could be cured by sleep. But despite being so tired, sleep doesn’t come that easy.
This morning I’d fed William and gone back upstairs to bed. He was settled in his Moses basket, however he hadn’t gone to sleep like he usually does, so I was already waiting to see if he’d sleep or start screaming. Captain decided to join me in the bed, this involved loud purring, slobbering on my arm and poking me in the face with his paws. Ooooh relaxing.
Back downstairs later on, I look round to see William fast asleep in his basket, Captain curled up on the back of the chair and Marmite sleeping under the table. Felt pretty upset not to be involved in sleep club, took the opportunity to get myself a large drink. Kicked it all over the carpet. Cried. Better luck tomorrow?