The learning curve continues

Oh the arrogance of the innocent. I'd never had contact with the business end of a breastfed baby before, so I failed to take into consideration what happens when high powered liquid poo explodes into a cloth nappy.

We were given 144 disposables, and I'd run out of stocks in the house, so at Braeden's early morning change I put him in the "new system as demonstrated at Antenatal Class" of a folded nappy inside specially designed overnaps.

Back to bed with starving child, fed him ... LOL... and about an hour later discovered the hard truth about breastfed babies and cloth nappies and being in bed with Mum at the time!!! Good thing my Napisan bucket is large enough to take king size sheets!

Wayne got home at 3pm (so much for Canterbury holiday) to find a totally wiped out wife who hadn't slept in over 24 hours, and whose major achievement of the day was a blissfully sleeping fat baby, but who had not managed to get herself fed, showered or tended to in any shape or form. So he's spent the afternoon trying to make me go to bed now, except who the hell can sleep when it's over 30 degrees!

In his redemption, let me point out that first he went out and found the missing half box of nappies, saving my bacon for another week perhaps, and secondly, that he suggested that cloth nappies are simply too much hassle at the mo (given that I hadn't eaten or showered by 3pm, I guess he had a point!), so let's stick with disposables awhile longer.

Could have kissed the guy into next week (providing of course he was into being smooched by such a disgusting harridan, LOL!)

He's not working tomorrow (yay!) so I might give him the 4am feed tonight and get five hours straight.. maybe.. LOL

Bless breastpumps, bless disposables! Oh yeah okay.. bless husbands too! (grins)

At least I'm getting the "official okay" to let Braeden feed as much as he wants now - we played it the midwife's way last week and Braeden only put on 4 oz, and I had the week from hell. She now agrees with me that he's a big strong boy who needs lots of food, so if he wants 180 mls of milk, let him have it. I'm coming up with about 100ml, so that means he's still nearly 50% formula 50% Mum, and that seems to be working.

He still upchucks, but not so much because I'm not holding him back when he tells me he's still hungry, so he doesn't get so worked up.

However seeing that he's "on demand" with me, it means he's only sleeping short periods and if he's uncomfortable (ie hot), he won't settle without his mother's comfort. Take this afternoon.. all three of us crashed out on the bed under the fan, and baby insisting on being as snuggled up to me as physically possible. (And I'm supposed to keep him cool to help that hormone outbreak on his face get better.. LOL there's another plan gone awry!)

It took three goes before I could successfully move bubs into his cot without him waking and bellowing his outrage at being tricked so cruelly.

I got the final sign off from the stop smoking people yesterday - I'd been avoiding going in for the last session because I'd lost any patience with being talked down to and patronised. The counsellor kept leaving messages on my answerphone, which I would reply to at times guaranteed that I would get her answerphone (snickers evilly), but give her credit, she didn't give up and finally got me in person yesterday.

The last interview/questionnaire went okay and quite quickly, then she started on about breastfeeding. Oh give me a break already.. not you TOO???

Then that evolved into cot death awareness, and I got it in the neck (nicely, with pointed sighs) about Braeden's choice of sleeping on his side or tummy. Despite my proving that I knew the "recommended position" and explaining how I minimised the risk (monitor, safety sleep, smokefree, etc), I still got the whole nine yards of lecture.

I did not, I repeat, NOT, rip off her arm and beat her to death with the soggy end.

(I just pretended my baby was waking, ooops sorry, gotta run. That also worked for the telemarketer who tried to leach some donations from me yesterday. One of these days I'll just say "Look, I am diametrically opposed to charitable donations solicited by telemarketers, because the "charity" concerned might get perhaps five cents in my dollar."

Btw, the breathing monitor went off twice last night - 9.55 and 9.58 pm. Yes, we were eating dinner at the time. Both times Braeden was discovered to be soundly sleeping and breathing quite normally, but (you'll love this) he was on his back.

Coincidence?