I’m not entirely sure what the definition of “mummy blogger” is, but I associate it with a patronising tone and have therefore always wanted to avoid the label. I’m aware, though, that this blog has become very kid-focussed lately. Part of me thinks, “You’re a mummy, and you blog. Get over it.” Another part wonders whether posts like these are just like the hours of video I took of Moses trying new foods: at the time it all seemed significant, but watching it back now is quite boring.
I feel like writing though, enough to do it with a pen and paper (!!) when I’m feeding Hazel and can’t be bothered setting up my computer and typing with one hand. So I’m going to write, even if it means I write about mumming and bore you all to tears.
Why do babies fight sleep? Why? Whyyyyyyyy?! If Hazel noticed me yawning repeatedly and asked me to please just close my eyes and drift off, I’d obey immediately. She wouldn’t have to ask twice. There’d be no patting or rocking or walking or swaying. I’d love for someone to dedicate their time to helping me sleep. But babies are silly. I remember this now.
I’m also reminded of this Tim Minchin video, which is sweary but hilarious:
I hate figuring out what my baby should be wearing. My midwife told me the ‘What you’re wearing plus a layer’ rule, which makes it sounds far simpler than it actually is. I think ‘What you wish you were wearing, plus a layer’ is more helpful, but this also needs added notes about what to do when the baby’s been rugged up at the warm end of the house while you’re goosebumpy at the cold end, for example. Or what bub should wear when it’s so hot that even nakedness seems like too many layers. It’s possible I’m over-thinking this.