A Day in the Life



0.00: 

The living room. Changing bag, nappies and spare baby clothes are strewn about the floor. Husband is plugged into facebook. I am dozing under a blanket on the sofa. Baby has woken up in his moses basket, covered in cold wee and protesting this loudly. Husband does a nappy change as I gradually awaken, and hands me clean baby for 30 minutes of vigorous nipple sucking.

4.00: 

Baby wakes needing changed and fed again. Husband changes. I feed. Discuss whether it is worth dragging our sorry carcases upstairs to sleep in a proper bed. If so, this will be the first time we’ve made it that far in three days. Decide to sleep in bed. Carry baby and moses basket upstairs and settle baby. Brush teeth and get into PJ’s. Husband sleeps. I sit awake faffing with I-Phone. Finally sleep about 5.30

8.00:

 Baby wakes.  Note visit from health visitor is due today. This requires house work. Also, should make baby presentable. Take baby to bathroom and dunk briefly into baby bath. Baby hates this. Much crying. Put baby into fresh nappy and clothes and take back to bed for nip sucking and cuddles. Settle baby to sleep. Shower and get dressed into proper clothes. Feel hugely proud to have managed to do this every day this week. Restock stash of nappy change stuff and clothes on bedside table. Take baby and moses basket downstairs to face the day.

9.00:

 Put on washload as recommended by Flylady, my peppy American housework guru. Clear decks in living room, removing dirty dishes, wine bottles and discarded socks. Tidy change bag in living room and restock with nappy change stuff and spare clothes. Bring downstairs, blue spiral notebook containing outline of terribly important lefty analysis of something or other, which I optimistically hope to write up at some point in the day. Eat cereal and drink cup of tea.

10.00

 Baby wakes wanting changed and fed. Baby vomits dramatically over mine and own clothes. Baby looks at me with baleful eyes as I strip sopping babygrow from scrawny body. Put baby down and rush upstairs to make self presentable before health visitor arrives. Clean clothes perilously low. Settle on slightly soiled jeans belonging to husband. Get downstairs dressed in clothes just in time for….

11.00

 Health visitor. Dog barks from kitchen. Unable to offer tea as would lead to:
  1. Possible escape and trouble making by dog
  2. Health visitor witnessing kitchen of filth, currently acting as repository for stuff that had to be moved out of living room to make it presentable for health visitors. 
Baby gets weighed. 5lbs 2oz! Up one whole pound from his birth weight. Health visitor very pleased and baby gets stella write up in the little red book. Health visitor asks typical awkward questions about state of my mental health, social life and levels of enthusiasm for breast feeding support group. Usher health visitor out of door, felling slightly guilty for failure to offer tea.

13.00: 

More feeding of baby. This time no spewing. Result. Attempt to read book while breast feeding. Wonder whether I should be using any of this time to talk to or bond with baby. Can’t think of anything to say to baby. Continue to read book, while shifting baby awkwardly in order to turn pages.

14.00: How is it 2? How did this happen? Have been up and awake since 8.00 and yet almost nothing has been achieved. Resign self to definitely not getting around to terribly important lefty analysis. Carry baby to kitchen and settle in pram, which is stored by cupboard under stairs. Wash dishes and shift rubbish covering worktops into bins. Think about lunch.

15.00:

 Text from friend. Do I want to come out for a dog walk? Yes, yes and yes! Adult company, sunshine and exercise. Friend comes around and I enlist her help to drag heavy pram down 4 flights of stairs as am still not able to do this with caesarean wound. Wander around park in brilliant sunshine, nattering with friend, stopping to pass the time of day with acquaintances, watching dogs chase about. More nappy changing happens. Also confident public breast feeding. Yay!!

19.00: 

Get back home. Prevail on husband to help with pram up the stairs. Take washing out of drier. Cook and eat lentil soup. Husband finishes cleaning kitchen, does some hovering and changes baby. Another feed and settle baby to sleep.

21.00: 

Write fluffy blog post about looking after babies. Fail to start earnest lefty analysis. Far too daunting this time of night. Husband plugs himself into facebook. Arrange self on sofa with blanket. Settle down for a doze before night feeds start. Make mental note of things to do tomorrow: still need to register baby with GP, return library books, write thank you cards for baby presents and so on and so forth. Top of the list: terribly important lefty analysis of something or other

0.00:

 Rinse and repeat 

Comments

  1. Grainy Mustard22 September 2012 at 00:07

    Have you considered reading aloud to the baby? that way, you're reading what you want to read but the baby feels like it's part of it too? although from what I've seen, he's pretty happy with 'the nip please, hold the chat' for now :)

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The NCT Meeting: A Vignette

The light from the generous bay window is shining in onto a dozen anxious couples perched on mismatched sofas and chairs, more indicative of wealth somehow than matching ones would have been. Various clutter including a child sized viola case and sheet music has been pushed into a corner to make room for us and a jolly woman in Birkenstocks has just asked us to brainstorm sources of help for new parents. We are at an NCT  class is Glasgow's West End.  “Imagine you’re at the very end of your rope” says the Jolly Woman “Who would you go to for help” It’s a sobering thought. I have worked at the CAB, however and I pride myself on knowing what to do in most situations. I think I would know what to do. In my mind I am thinking “Sure Start Centre, GP, Health visitor, Social Services” Following my usual strategy for group activities, I do not leap in straight away with the answer. More polite to let everyone else have a go first, I think. I am immediately glad of th...
Read more

My first blooding in the Terf Wars

When I moved to Glasgow 12 years ago, I joined two groups which were to have a profound effect on my political outlook. And set me on a course that culminated recently in 6 solid months of stress,  my first intimate experience of a political split and my first proper blooding in the Terf wars.   The first was a very small, trans inclusive feminist group. It was in this group that I coined the ridiculous  phrase "are now or have been a woman" in an attempt to find a form of words which would allow us to  keep a very nice young woman who identified as non binary and kick out two sexist blokes who err… also identified as non binary.  If you know anything about contemporary trans politics you will instantly see that this tack was offensive  to all parties but, hey, my heart was in the right place. I was trying to be inclusive.  The two non binary blokes…..I later talked to a member of the group about them in private. She felt that at least one of...
Read more

Intersectionality 1: In which we define our terms:

OK, So I’m going to have a dive into the massive and Choppy waters of Intersectionality   Intersectionality is a sort of add on to feminism. It’s the shocking idea that gender is not the only basis on which people might be oppressed and that other thing (class, race, sexuality) might be worth looking into too. Nothing to argue with there. My slight problem with Intersectionality (and it’s a geeky one) is that adding new bits to an existing analysis (feminism) to make it encompass more things can be a little bit clumsy and can lead to some odd conclusions. Some of the limitations have been very well over here  by the magnificent Mhairi. I comepletely love this post and once based an entire gender training day on it.   As Mhairi point out, Intersectionlity (and the term Kyriarchy  used here to describe the totality of these intersectional oppressions) does not tend to deal well with class. This is because class is to do with material things. On...
Read more