I can’t imagine I’m going to write anything too special tonight, I was tempted to leave off today’s scribble but as I’d already missed yesterday’s one I figured I should write something.

It’s crazy the effect tiredness has on you, from your mood to your energy; I spent most of this afternoon getting so cranky and frustrated until finally I handed Bowie over to Alex and said, please, take him, I need to go lie down.

The past two nights weren’t great, particularly the one before last. I spent a good chunk of them awake trying to settle a restless baby and while last night was decidedly better and in fact, showed some real progress as Bowie went ten hours from his bedtime feed to the next one at 3 am, it was still a very broken night of only seven hours sleep.

Despite this, once Bowie woke at 6.20 am, I was dragging my sorry ass out of bed to get him up and start the day. Otherwise, if I fed him and tried to get him back to sleep our whole day-time routine of feeds/naps would go haywire. And with the big changes we’re making in the night-time routine, I need the day to go as smoothly as possible.

I really didn’t want to get up at 6.20 am. I never wanted to do that on a normal morning, pre-baby, after a solid eight hours unbroken sleep, never mind after a night of being up and down with Bowie.

There is something sweet about getting up before anyone else, making my tea, heading into the living room in the dark to feed my little boy in the peace and quiet of an early morning. Especially if I can flick on the tv and watch a recording of a missed episode of Strictly or The Apprentice. It’s like a bit of relaxing “me time”, albeit shared with my six month-old dribbling milk down my top and kicking the remote off the chair or scratching my boob with his ridiculously sharp nails.

But you know what? “Me time” is over-rated. Baby-time is a whole lot better. Though ideally at around 9 am after a lovely long night’s sleep.

A girl can dream….

Ciao darlings!

Liz