Jeez. There should be a law against mothers going out past 10pm. The Husband is away on business and has been since last week Wednesday, so I thought I’d be less lonely and like less of a loser if I accepted a theatre invitation for Friday night. Who knew the show would only end at 11pm? That in itself should be illegal – it’s way past my bedtime. And then one of my favourite school friends who lives in Stellies was up for the weekend and SPECIALLY drove out to Monte Casino from the West Rand to come and say hi. So of course I had to have a drink with her and her hubby after the show. Which took me to midnight which meant that I got to bed at 12:30am. I don’t think I’ve been up that late since New Year’s Eve in Umhlanga and that was eight months ago.
Needless to say Saturday was a total debacle. And I was alone with The Princess. My grand plan was to breastfeed her at our usual time of 6am, then top her up around 7ish, have breakfast with her in her pouch and then settle down for our morning snooze. I thought I’d treat her (and myself) by putting her in our bed for her nap. The problem was, she didn’t seem to see this as a treat. I think she saw our bed as some sort of giant play-gym but without any overhead mobiles – BORING! As a result, she lay there chatting, gurgling and moaning with absolutely no intention of going to sleep. A quick bit of arm rocking fortunately caused her to nod off and I gently set her back down on the pillows. It worked! Phew. She then slept next to me for what my watch said was an hour but what to me felt like about 30 seconds. NOT the two hour morning marathon kip she very occasionally treats me to! Once she was awake and in full chat-mode, it was time to officially get up and out of my pj’s. When I’m alone with The Princess, I regard simple tasks like getting dressed and putting on make-up as achievements. Eating breakfast or lunch ranks up there amongst those achievements. During these tasks, she’s either sitting on my chest in her baby carrier, or lying on her play gym somewhere within my sight. But on Saturday I was so completely finished I think I fell asleep lying under her play gym with her. I could hear her baby-talk somewhere in my dreams…Luckily she didn’t choose that moment to practise rolling over – a milestone she has achieved on a few isolated occasions but something she does very seldom. I have to say that seeing your baby roll over for the first time is probably one of the most exciting things I’ve experienced during her little life. There’s something just so incredible about it. You can’t quite believe this little creature can hoist herself right over and turn around like that. I guess her first steps will be truly incredible one day but for now rolling over is super exciting. It’s made even more exciting by the fact that she reserves the spectacle for special occasions.
I managed a further nap during the 2pm breastfeed and I think The Princess must have drifted off as well because we were both pretty immobile for about an hour. After that I felt genuinely refreshed and the memory of my burning the midnight oil the night before was finally fading. While I loaded The Princess into her baby carrier for a 5km walk around the hood, The Husband and The Sister were cycling up a storm in England’s Peak District. I got the official stats a little later and I have to say that they are both mad:
– 125km ridden
– 4 falls from the poor little Sister
– 1 hysterical crying fit (by the poor little Sister)
– 1 patient brother-in-law, thrilled to have a convert and partner-in-crime to share in his cycling obsession
These two now plan to puff and pant their way up and down mountain passes on our holiday in the south of France. The Princess and I, meanwhile, will be strolling into the local village of Fayence, stopping in at the boulangerie to pick up a baguette or two, strolling home and waiting for these two psychos to come back from their ride and devour the local produce. On that note, Weight Watchers is still in the picture, although I am most cheesed off at having strictly counted points and calories for five out of the last six days (and only deviating slightly on the one "bad" day) and not having lost a single gram in the past week. So I'm sitting at a total loss of 3.2kg in 4 weeks, which is fine but I'm still 1.3kg short of my manicure and pedicure incentive. I may just move the goalposts though – I really should have fabulous, bright pink toes to be poolside in the south of France, n'est-ce pas?