Hotshot tot

Yesterday was the first of Braeden's immunisation visits. It was the first and last visit to our old Doc, as we need to change to someone a lot closer. A shame really; the previous doc is a beaut, but an hour's drive is too far for a child who might one day feel sick.

Bubs only got his meningicoccal shot yesterday, as Kaye doesn't like giving little-uns too much for their first time. Good plan - that one shot was enough to guarantee a very unhappy baby for the rest of the day. I don't know who cried harder or minded the most, the baby or his mother. Following our midwife's advice, I popped him straight on the breast for a feed afterwards which silenced the howls of outrage within a few moments. (Times like this you really appreciate an ever-hungry baby!)

Then it was round to Grandma's for cuddles and a cup of tea for the anxious parents. We were so tired yesterday that friends who saw us later in the day told us we've aged ten years in appearance!!!

Braeden ran a temperature yesterday, and was very sleepy/clingy. When we got home, he had some infant paracetamol which we'd been given on prescription, and another good feed, then Wayne took over and sent me to bed for an hour or so while baby slept.

That was at 8.15pm. Around 2am I woke for a potty stop, staggered out in confusion (where's my baby, where's my husband??) and was sent back to bed again. (Go away, we're fine. Get some sleep woman and I'll see you in the morning.)

So Braeden slept in his swinging bed, Wayne crashed on the couch, and I got to sprawl in the king size all by myself. Not even a snoring Tamsin in her bed - Auntie Poodle was on guard duty!

I woke again at 6, feeling a bit groggy but infinitely more human. Braeden was giving his father hell because it's that time of morning when he plays the gobble-chuck-scream-no burp-gobble etc game. Bubs emptied himself again as I walked in, but no worries - after a night of not feeding, I had an overloaded self-irrigation system, and all sprinklers went into high alert at the sight and sound of my darling child.

So it was attach the adorable leech, kiss the husband, and take over the next shift with a much happier frame of mind. It's startling how much more fun parenthood is when you aren't so tired that you can barely form coherent thoughts.

Yesterday we joked that if sleeping was Braeden's reaction to injections, we'd book him in for at least one a week. That was humour to mask concern however, because he was clearly miserable when awake, and completely dry nappies from midday to 7pm were a bit of a worry. He was damp - but from sweat not piddle. Only thing for it was to give him as much fluids as he could handle, and along with the paracetomal and unlimited cuddles, he was a lot more comfortable within the hour.

Today we're trying to get back to routine, despite Braeden's best efforts to do his own thing.

... ooops kid awake, will finish this later, with cute new piccies!