"He's YOUR son and bears your name. YOU get him."
"YOU got the boobies. You get him."
"I *delivered* him. You get him."
(For the record, we've never had this convie ourselves although I'm sure many new parents may find this sounds familiar. Dear Hubby voluntarily gets up since he says I've already gotten up for the night feeds. I guess this is what you call poetic license. Hehe.)
FINALLY. Some uninterrupted sleep for a bit! *dreams about the days when I could laze in bed till 10am*
Why isn't there a SNOOZE button on this baby just like there's one on my alarm clock? Which part of SLEEP doesn't he understand??? Aiyoooooooo......
The daily Battle of the Zzz is over. Baby 1, Mummy 0. Brekkie = Frosties hurriedly poured into bowl + splash of milk + dash of raisins. Who wants to bet they'll all go soggy before I have a chance to finish them?
Getting better at reading broadsheet papers with one hand. At this rate I'm going, I can be a juggler in a circus when he's old enough to go to pre-school and I get the mornings back.
Poo-ed on. Pee-ed on. Bathroom floor all wet from sprays of water. Forgot the lyrics to songs I sing to him but Connor doesn't notice I sub "La-la-la" for them. Sneaky Mummy!
Yay! He's nodding off for his mid-morning nap! I get to shower without interruption for once! Oops. He's up. Forget the blow-dry, just tie the hair up and hope no one in ultra-fashionable Jakarta notices. HAHA. Fat hopes.
Quality bonding time for Mummy and Baby. Except the bit where he's guaranteed to poo big time just after I've changed him into his cutest clothes and a fresh diaper post-bath. This is why I don't bother with anything but babygros most days. I'll go nuts trying to handle buttons and belts on a squirming 2 month old baby.
We wave hello to everyone we meet at American Club. Weighs myself before gym. CRAPS. I thought all that mommy fat was supposed to magically melt away since I'm breastfeeding. All you health professionals LIED! Weigh myself after gym. Why do I even bother with this gym fuss!
On non-gym days, it's a mall crawl. Mummy has only 3 pairs of pants she can wear comfortably and the only tops that really fit are still her maternity tops. Ooh, look... SALE! I wanna go buy new clothes...Craps. Baby starts wailing. Time to go home.
Back at home and post-feed, it should be nap time. How come the baby doesn't come with a SLEEP button like my DVD player??? What's wrong with Nature??? All it ever provides is a belly button and that one doesn't work either!
Aww... he's so sweet to cuddle when he's still groggy and yawning. Time for a read-together. I've discovered he enjoys being read to. He's not particularly fussy about what I'm reading either. Today I read out Chapter One from Daddy's Nikon manual and Connor enjoyed it too. Especially the part about batteries.
Daddy's home! "He's YOUR son, here.. take him!" Cut, dice, chop, fry. Soup's on!
The most relaxing time of day because there's an extra and willing pair of hands to help out now. Dinner eaten, cleared. Baby fed, winded. DVD (pirated copy, purchased for the princely sum of Rp6,000 in Jakarta) popped into player and I finally get to have grown-up convie.
When Dear Hubby starts yawning, it's time to get Connor up to our bedroom. In he goes into his sleeping bag and Daddy places him in his cot. I catch up on emails downstairs in the study while Dear Hubby gets ready for bed. Then it's my turn.
When is he ever going to sleep through the night? Yaaaaaaaaaawn....
Ditto. Even more yaaaaaaaaawn....
"He's YOUR son."