Hi everyone, me again. You know when you just have them days? Them days where it's all getting on top of you, where it all gets too much? I'm having one of those, I feel like I have one of these about once a fortnight. First my fella is shouting when I wake up, the baby is crying, my fucking eye lash is falling off. On top of that it's 3.30 pm and the baby hasn't had a nap which means, you guessed it, SCREAMING! My fella went to the Lidl for an hour and at first it was fine, we did tummy time, we watched that bloody turtle program on Netflix 'Sammy' it's cute, but then it happened. The baby is sledging, he's starting to get sleepy, FINALLY. I offer him the bottle, 3 gulps and the screaming commences, I alternate the dummy and the Bootle and he's pushing both away, WHY DO YOU KNOW HOW TO WORK YOUR HANDS??? I'm spiraling, I'm alone on lock down with an angry 3 month old fighting sleep, and bottles and dummies and every solution and me and now he's ragging my hair and clawing at my face, WHAT'S GOING ON?! Did I break? Why yes, yes I did. Did I shout at him? Yes I did. But did I throw him out the window like my short fuse was telling me to? No of course I didn't, because I'm not a fucking psychopath, but I AM human. He starts ragging at his ears, which I know from my big arse family and all the searching I have done is a tell tale sign of teething pain, right? I keep moving his hands and he keeps doing it. So I think great I'll give him some Calpol, put up with the soul stealing scream for 20 minutes I can do this, I've done it before, it's fine. 5 minutes pass, it's OK we can do it, 10 minutes pass, I'm breaking, 15 minutes pass, I'm rocking back and forward and it isn't because the baby likes it, TWENTY MINUTES PASS and he's still screaming, at this point I've moved his hands so I can rag at my own hair, I'm OK, I'll survive right? I'm not so sure anymore.
I put him in his pram, I tell him to stop smiling at me because he's purely doing it just for my attention and THIS is the problem with lockdown. Attention is all we have, specifically mine and his dads, he doesn't even have siblings here. This. Is. Draining. He screams more and more, so I put him in the pram in the corner of the room and this kind of switch clicks in my head. I'm now sat here void of any emotion, of any thought of any feeling, I'm non existent. At the present moment I'm a sentient being but I just don't know anything, I'm irrelevant. I click back after about 3 minutes of this weird inward peace, back crashing down to the reality of my infant SCREAMING for attention to the point he makes himself choke. He did this the other day too, God I hope this isn't my child now. I get up and I decide, as a MOTHER, that HE will not defeat ME.
Let the battle commence! I made him, I can do this! It's a stand off, it's me against him. I'm stood eyeing up this 61 cm, 15 week old with lungs of steel and eyes of pure fury, and then there is me, this 5 foot disheveled used to be woman who is now just a walking milk stain with frizzy hair and a complexion that can only be described as pre pubescent, but I.CAN.DO.THIS! I rock the pram, back and forward, back and forward, I may have given him slight whiplash by the wheel spinning and tapping one of his dads weights but I check and he's fine. Shit, now he knows I'm weak. So, no eye contact, none! Avert my eyes. I do this with ease as I'm so angry I genuinely don't want to look at him, because every time I do he smiles, blows raspberries for a few seconds and then regains his blind fury from not being picked up. Forward and back, forward and back, forward and back I push the pram. Until... what is that I hear? NOTHING!
Nothing but peace and quiet. It's so tranquil, I can hear my thoughts, ooh don't want to go that far. I can hear the birds, I can hear, I can hear, the door, his dads back, shit! So I run to the door as quietly and swiftly as I can like a cat with a rocket up it's arse, I swear to God I'd rather lose my relationship than wake this banshee up. He opens the door with the shopping bags and I whisper shout 'BE QUIET, HE'S FINALLY ASLEEP'. He nods and smiles and comes in. I give him the death glare because, let me get this clear, his dad has this tendency to DROP things when I have JUST got the baby to sleep. Whether this be bottles, KEYS, or his fucking phone! He gives me the bulging eyes as if to say a sharp OKAY! So I whip the laptop out and try to start an article on my day, just a little light hearted up date. I'm sat here, with my lovely coffee, life is absolutely splendid, he's been asleep for 20 minutes now so we are very nearly in the safe zone. It's time mummy and daddy can relax, we can actually be human again for a little while. So here we are, he smiles at me, I smile at him, we revel in the quiet. Daddy goes upstairs to get his play station for a well deserved chill time for himself after running round everywhere and mummy gets to lie down and write. Bliss.
Wait, I just saw a limb move, and he's awake again, that was a nice 23 minutes of lockdown freedom...