We are very excited about Christmas in our house. Well G Kisby and I are anyway. I have tried to whip Mabel into a frenzy about it but she is still a bit young to get it. G Kisby has questioned why I would want to anyway, "she won't sleep for the excitement". Secretly my answer is, "who cares, neither will I, Father Christmas is coming man, this is no time for sleeping"
I have whipped Fee's boys into a frenzy for years. Particularly when I was but an 18 year old student. I do admittedly see the error of my ways now (and am slightly nervous about the come back in years ahead) but will still nonetheless text one of them at an inappropriate time on Xmas eve. Probably pretending I have just seen Santa whilst up on my night feed or something on those lines...
Despite not really understanding Christmas Mabel has participated well with her advent calendar. Well, I say participated. I spent forever wrapping individual Peppa Pig characters for each bag but lacking a full 24 I filled a couple of bags with a chocolate coin. So giddy was she when number 4 turned out so that for the bags thereafter she has been very openly ("no chocolate?" as Pedro Pony is thrown down in disgust) displaying her disappointment.
Admittedly Pedro has since been very much loved but still.
And as a quick Wilf update. He is still a very smiley boy and I almost got a chuckle singing Kylie to him the other day. His cooing is just gorgeous and I am now only getting up once in the night to feed him which is soooo much better for my sanity.
So we pick up the giant ham tomorrow (boxing day tradition that G Kisby and Al prepare a ham that gets bigger and more extravagant every year) and I have a couple of final wee things to do (like think of my 'song of 2012' and 'guilty pleasure', another tradition where we all choose songs for the Xmas dinner playlist) but the presents are wrapped and the bags are being packed for our trip to stay with Granny. Too exciting.
Ho Ho Ho...
Second time around you really wouldn't expect such errors of judgement when it comes to nappy changes.
But yet poo disasters continue to haunt me...
I had been having some tough nights (I can see why sleep deprivation is a form of torture). With Mabel currently getting up between 5.30 and 6.00 it can sometimes mean I don't get back to sleep after Wilf's third night feed about 4 ish. Hard going man.
Anyway as a result I have been lazily changing his nappy on my knee in bed after feeding him. This has been fine, I am speedy and adept at such a manoeuvre since I tend to do it this way through the day also.
But yes with a boy I am playing wee roulette.
One night last week as changing him about 2am he did some huge trumps. So I held back a moment, cautious about taking the old nappy off. A minute or so later I ploughed on and somehow, no idea how, just at the moment that I did said switch a huge trump came out accompanied by a a stream of poster paint poo. Onto the bed. Onto the bed which OCD G Kisby was also in. Onto the bed right about the area of the duvet nearest my head. Oh no. Oh big fat no.
I acted fast and put the new nappy on anyway to catch the now river of poo that was coming but unfortunately that just spread the offending poo patch out underneath. There was nothing for it, I had to wake G Kisby up and confess. We had a tired and irritable conversation along the lines of,
"I've got a bit of an issue...there is poo on the bed"
"Right" pauses and sits up with slight look of despair
"What do u want me to do to help?"
"Don't know. What do u think?"
"How bad is it? Want me to lift up Wilf?"
"Well you could but then the nappy underneath is covered..."
"So what then?" sigh now audible
"Er don't know, we are in a bit of a mess"
"Oh my god, pass me the baby..."
"Just watch out for the wipe..." I tried as he scooped Wilf up holding him at arms length and whisked out the room. Luckily he didn't notice the wipe I had used to try and clean the spillage then fly off and land on another part of the bed (his side) in the process.
Then, on a separate occasion, I took a call from someone very senior in work who was wanting to congratulate me on having a baby. Wilf was on my shoulder at the time and decided he would push a poo out using his normal ridiculously loud levels of strain. I felt wet on my hand so couldn't move him as I squirmed at how this must sound down the other end of the phone. The noises reached a crescendo with me ending up leaning my body and the phone as far away as possible and in the in the end having to actually say (because it was becoming embarrassing),
"Ooh I think he needs a nappy change".
However, on a nicer note our gorgeous boy turned a month old last week. We have decided to do a photo on the same day every month, with the same toy, tracking him changing both in size (please no) but also how he plays with his toy - Pierre the duck.
I think he likes it!
.JPG)
.JPG)
