Am I coming or going?

William is now four weeks and one day old. I am continually surprised by how quickly he’s changing and how me and hubs made something so beautiful. Being a parent keeps you very busy. Some might say too busy, I’ve got very good and controlling my bladder.

This morning our darling son decided that after being fed and changed he was going to scream the place down unless he was laying on my chest. He looked around his beautiful blue eyes taking in the details of my face (bushy eyebrows, black bags, remains of make up I actually managed to put on yesterday) , and he yawned. Call me silly but if you’re tired why not put less energy into screaming, more into snoozing? Apparently deafening mummy is more fun. EVENTUALLY he fell into a deep sleep and I was able to put him in his basket without him kicking off. I then enjoyed a cup of tea.

My house is disgusting. The kitchen is sanitary, but the mess everywhere else is quite frankly upsetting. My bathroom is crying out for a deep clean but a quick squirt of bleach down the loo will have to suffice for the time being! The sheets need changing on the bed too, our cats are quite partial to napping on the bed, often seeking refuge upstairs if William is being particulary vocal, this means sheets don’t stay clean for long.

I don’t think I put deodorant on today, I’ve washed my hair but had no time to dry it so I currently resemble Hagrid. I only got stretch marks on the top of my legs in the last week of pregnancy. What I don’t understand is why the ones on my left leg are growing? I’m still bleeding *ahem* downstairs, when the hell does that stop? And why does no-one tell you how much blood is involved in labour? I spent a considerable amont of time wondering if I was, in actual fact, dying but I didn’t want to freak out and cause a scene. I can’t help but wonder if personal grooming will be a thing ever again.

 

In other news:

The f*#king cat has eaten the sausages we were supposed to be having for tea.

This has taken a few hours to write because my son hasn’t stopped screaming.

Sir Legsalot is missing, I have spotted a huge spider stalking round the living room, I suspect a turf war of some form. I have named the new spider Phil Mitchel. If you saw him, you’d understand why.

 

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Author: thebumpchroniclesblog

Thirty year old first time mum, sharing parenthood experiences/fails.

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