Things Are Good When Things Are Good
Thing 1: Since one or other or another of his or my recent colds or ear infections or other random maladies that have blurred into one long misery I like to call Winter, baby Garnet stopped sleeping in his cot at all. He now sleeps in our bed at night, or in the car, stroller or carrier during the day. This is good because he sleeps much more soundly at night when he is with us, neither H nor I have to drag ourselves out of bed to resettle him, and he is a delicious bundle of sweetness and cuddles during the night. This is bad because during his naps I often have to hang out with him, reading on my phone while his sister gorges herself on ABC kids programs on the iPad. This means I don’t get much else done. Luckily he doesn’t nap a huge amount. It is also a bit bad because he likes to go to bed a lot earlier than I do. But the upshot of it all is that I am getting heaps more sleep, and am thus much more mentally balanced. May Blossom gets more TV, which she adores. Garnet gets rest. Win. (Yes, I know. Unsustainable sleeping plan. Rod for own back. We’ll fix it when we fix it. Right now it’s working for us.)
Thing 2: There has been one week this winter when we didn’t have to go to the doctor for some reason or other. The GPs at our local practice now wear massive gold chains around their necks and sport diamonds inset into their front teeth. There is a new wing on the building named after our family.
Thing 3: I went back to the gym for the first time since Garnet was born, and the second time since May Blossom was born. You can read about how well the first time went here. This time was not much better. I flailed and puffed and thought I was going to throw up and had to lie down several times, all in front of Garnet, who was strapped into his stroller looking at me with a chubby-cheeked look of WTF. I patted myself on the back for making it all the way through the hour, and not having to call my dad to come rescue me, like last time, and reminded myself that climbing a mountain starts with a single step. For a suburban class of postnatal ladies ignoring their babies while doing a few squats and talking about how much they admire our new Prime Minister’s dedication to his own health and fitness is totally like climbing a mountain. The fact that I managed to keep my breakfast down while listening to that sort of enraging talk was achievement enough for me.
Thing 4: Two hours after the gym class I started vomiting. I continued for twelve hours. I had gastro. I don’t think I’ve ever been that sick and not had myself and some combination of martinis, tequila and champagne to blame. It was a night of horrible horrors, followed by three days of slightly less horrible horrors. On the plus side, it wasn’t entirely my massive lack of fitness that caused my poor gym performance. I also lost all the remaining baby weight. Result!
Thing 5: Tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn we are going to Melbourne in search of the lost baby weight. We’ll be there for 48 hours, visiting my brother-in-law and watching him perform in a famous play by a famous man for a famous theatre company. I am most definitely not going to faint during the performance and nearly throw up on another famous man on my way out, again. I spoil that boy, I tell you. When we are not starting standing ovations in the middle of his scenes, H, May Blossom, Garnet, Mum, Dad and I will be stomping about in the rain eating whatever the Melbournians aren’t quick enough to hide from us. And maybe doing a little bit of shopping, tantrumming almost-three-year-olds permitting. I’m pretty excited.
Thing 6: My big brother, SuperChief, recently got engaged. This is the best news ever. He is going to marry a completely splendid person whom he has known since they were both tiny children. (We are still working on a blog name for future Mrs SuperChief.) I could not be happier about this turn of events. When I think about it I get slightly teary with joy.