Fourteen

Asleep.

I have mentioned at various times throughout this blog that sleep cycles rule my world. Although this is still very true, there is one other influential culprit that can cause some havoc in our lives.

This culprit is cunning.

It sneaks up on you when you least expect it and has little regard for timing.

It makes their presence felt through an array of squeals and cries plus an unmistakable stench.

Yet we can't live comfortably without it regularly making an appearance.

You know what I'm talking about right?

(insert nodding of head here).

I'm referring to the poo.

What? Too much? I'm sorry if you were eating your lunch but I can't tip toe around this one.

Awake.

We have entered our second week of transitioning the little master out of his woombie swaddle. We are up to both arms being out during his day time sleeps. We got off to a rough start at week two but have since been pleased with our progress. Very proud of the little master.

Until we reached 12.40pm today.

Usually at lunch he will wake after one cycle and with some whinging he will drop back off for another well needed 45 minutes. This second cycle at lunch time is absolutely crucial to our day. Remember this?

Today, when he woke after 40 minutes, I did the usual. Stuck my head in, told him to 'go back to sleep' (he really does know what it means!) and let him re-settle.

At the risk of being awarded the July 2012 'Awful Mother of the Month' Award, I will refrain from mentioning how long I let him have a 'bit of a whinge' for. Don't stress, it wasn't obscene..no need to call the authorities on me now ok? Let's just say I have been determined to make this swaddle transition work.

So more clumps of hair began leaping from my already balding head and our carpet now has permanent pacing marks from my winter ugg boots.

Enough was enough. I gave in and raced in to give the little master a cuddle.

And there it was.

The poo.

The awful stench of you know what, hit me in the face like a gold plated 'Awful Mother of the Month Award'.

I cried with guilt and the little master smiled.

He then looked at me as if to say 'how was I meant to re-settle with that in my dacks Mum?!'

Stupid Mum. Forgiving baby. Scared dog hiding under the bed. Smelly nursery.

I wiped our tears away and carried on. Another day, another lesson learned – don't mess with the poo.

While he re-settles for another cycle, I'm going to dig out my trophy engraver. I think I have July 2012 in the bag.

Asleep. Just.