You May Think It's Funny, But It's Snot Aidan has been unwell this past week or so. He's picked up an ear infection and a nasty cold, causing him to produce surprisingly vast quantities of mucus and bogies so sticky they give previous world-record holder Toxteth O'Grady a run for his money. The gunk in his lungs also causes him to cough, often to the point where he is sick. I'm not talking about a wee dribble on the carpet either, but vast fountains of milky vomit, more often than not aimed directly at his dear old dad. Still, he's a Glaswegian lad, and so not one to let a little tactical chunder spoil his evening, normally grinning widely a few moments later as his father drips his way to the bedroom to change his clothes for the third time that day.
Babies that age tend to get these little infections quite frequently, we are assured, while their immune systems build up a database of common bugs and how to tackle them. Despite being regularly showered in infantile secretions, I felt certain that my highly-trained 33-year-old white blood cells would keep me safe and healthy. But of course, I am also in a new environment, surrounded by many variations of the common cold not often encountered in Glasgow, and am now paying the price for my immunological hubris.
In short, I feel like shite.
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Monday, March 23, 2009
I Play This Game Several Times a Night
The rules are as follows ...
Turn off the lights. Hold the baby firmly but gently, his head on your shoulder. Start walking, adopting a steady, regular pace, and a slight bounce. If your grip on the baby is correct he should jiggle slightly. Eventually he will fall asleep, but if you put him down now he will wake instantly. Instead, start counting to yourself, at a rate of one per step, where a step involves moving both legs. If he makes a sound or a voluntary movement, start counting again from the beginning. When you reach 120 you can put him down, and start counting to 30. If he wakes up in that time you may be able to get him back to sleep by rubbing his tummy and sushing. If not, pick him up and start again from the beginning. If you make it to 30, congratulations! The baby is asleep. You may now creep out very quietly and enjoy what remains of your evening, but keep the monitor handy since you may be called upon to play the game again.
Who knew sleep was so difficult?
Labels: parenthood
link | 1 comment(s) | links to this postSettling
I suppose I'm coping ok in my new environment, though I have only been here for a month, and so am still in that 'holiday' period. The novelty is keeping homesickness at bay, though I do wish that Google Street View hadn't chosen this week to launch in the UK, resulting in a slighly tipsy and maudlin hour spent clicking through my old hood.
Working from home hasn't been the minimum-productivity skivefest I feared it might, though I've had a few unpleasant episodes of cabin fever, and I do miss the peace of my morning train journey, cold and rain notwithstanding. For someone used to being able to nip across the road to Tesco at a moments notice, living in a place where driving is not optional is hard going.
So yeah, I'm here. Now what?