You know you're a Mum when....

you can't see the TV show you're watching clearly for all the greasy fingerprints all over the screen!

Can someone please tell me....

why it is exactly that ECE hours are only applicable for three and four year olds?


Perhaps I've the wool pulled over my eyes, but it makes sense to have it for one and two year olds too, right?


The reason I ask is, I'm looking at going back to work and holy heck daycare is UBER expensive. YEESH. It really is for the rich and famous!


Is there anything that caters for parents who aren't so keen on footing up close to $300 for 3/4 days of care?


Now I know it's what's best for your child and if I know that Redford will get the most super care at creche out of anywhere else then I'm happy to pay the bill, but honestly, is there even a choice? 


What about parents that need to go back to work and can't foot the cheque? Or single parents? What happens then? Where do their kids go and how do they afford the care?


I just don't get it....

Little Red turns one.

So the wee monster turned one on Monday and we celebrated in style the day before. A great day was had by all, even Redford who took it all in his stride (and thoroughly enjoyed his piece of cake). The highlight? Putting him in the sailor suit that his Daddy wore 31 years ago when he turned one!


The feast! And all homemade! We had lamingtons, cheese straws, rice paper rolls, animal biscuits, pikelets...

and then there were pepperdews stuffed with brie, egg, ham and salmon sammies, mint truffles and lime and white chocolate rocky road. Yum!

We even had goody bags! No party is complete without goody bags.

But who could forget the most important part? The cake! Vanilla butter cake with vanilla buttercream icing. Mmmm!

There was plenty of bubbles for the adults....

Me and the birthday boy (who's not all too happy about wearing such a silly hat) x

Family photo! Daddy's not too happy about the hat either - "But I look simple!"

Opening presents, what a lucky wee boy our Redford was!

Cake time! A big happy birthday followed by the clap game.... which was pretty short seeing as though there was only one clap....

Redford wasted no time in munching down his piece of cake (we may have created a monster) with Daddy.

The infamous sailor suit!

Cuddles with Daddy - recreating the 1980 photo with the next generation.

Redford's actual birthday - his first fluffy (which went down a treat, particularly the marshmallows!)

Eyeing up the $350 wagon that he'd quite like for his next birthday. Dream on, buddy!

Holy heck! I'm IN the mirror! Admiring himself at Te Papa.

And to top off a lovely day, naked fun times with the balloons. Red thought all his birthday's had come at once.

Now it's Mummy and Daddy's time to celebrate! We crack open our bottle of 2008 Alana Estate Reisling Aperitif, bought waaaay back on our first trip away together. Bliss!

And thus concludes Redford's lovely birthday! Bring on number two, I say! I'm planning it already....


x

Counting down to the big O-N-E!!

So my baby boy is one in T minus four days!! I can't quite believe how fast yet slow this past year has gone. I find it absolutely incredible how much Redford has developed in such a short time. He's gone from a mewing, wide-eyed newborn to a grape guzzling, trolley pushing wee character and I love him more and more every day.


We're having his birthday party on Sunday which started off low key but has grown somewhat.... 


My favourite part has been concocting a scrummy menu for all the peeps to eat! We have cheerios and T sauce for the littlies (and for the oldies - who doesn't love a sneaky cheerio?), iced animal biscuits, cheese biscuits, lamingtons, brie and pepperdew bites, avocado, cucumber, ginger and coriander rice paper rolls, pikelets and finger sammies. All homemade (minus the cheerios)!


And of course, who can forget the main munch - the cake! I'm attempting a vanilla number 1 cake with butter cream icing and edible decorations. Oh, and there's take home bags - mint truffles and lime and white chocolate rocky road. Mmmm....


I promise pictures aplenty come Monday for onscreen drooling!


Now to work on a gift that Little Red will enjoy just as much as the paper it's wrapped in....

You know you're a Mum when....

you thank your lucky stars for a sleep-in. 


I.e. You get woken up by incessant chattering at 7:20am - a whole twenty minutes later than usual! 


Yippee!

You know you're a Mum when....

Your rubbish bin always smells like poopy nappies.

Bad Bonnie!

Holy guacamole! As my dear friend and TMD cohort Nikki pointed out, I haven't written a BB post in over five weeks! Tsk tsk. My blog has suffered immense negligence. I have returned to find it cowering in the corner with tears in it's eyes. If it was a Tamagotchi, if would be floating around on the screen with wings right now. Lucky I don't own any house plants. Or fish. Now I see why my basil didn't survive.....


In fact, I'm surprised I still have any followers!


Well, well. What's been happening? Or, should I say, what hasn't been happening?! Little Red is *tear* the big O-N-E in just under two weeks. I'm finding it rather hard to comprehend that my wee man is going to be all grown up. Hell, he'll be lolling around in bed til noon soon telling me to F Off. Sometimes I can't bear the thought of him not wanting my cuddles and kisses one day.... well, better get them all in while I can!

What else? Redford is crawling like a rocket (he quite enjoys taking Heinz the Reindeer for a walk). 

He's been pulling himself up everywhere. Walking round things. Enjoying a cuppa with Daddy.

Mainly he's just been catching up on some reading and getting into as much trouble as possible in the short space of time it takes me to have a wee or put the washing on.

 Or.... trying to change his nappy, ahem....

So! That's what's been going on here. Oh, and he has six teeth!


I promise promise promise to never stray for so long again and keep your eyes open for lots more Baby Bump posts from now on!!


B x

TMD's first giveaway!

My lovelies! Head on over to The Mummy Diaries and check out our very first giveaway. Like us and follow us and we'll give you pressies!

xx

Where's Redford?

The new fave game - peepo with hats!

Happy days x

Handmade for Christchurch

 
So one of my fave Christchurch relief set-ups is Handmade for Christchurch. It's unique, it's crafty and it's just oh-so-lovely. I donated two 'essential pouches' from my up-and-coming label (watch this space.... more info to come soon!) which will be auctioned along with two synergy blends made especially by Gillian over at Le'Esscience. 

Each pouch has been hand crafted and stitched by yours truly.

Put 3-4 drops of the synergy blend onto a tissue, fold and tuck into the pouch.

Be sure to check out the auction on Trade Me. And also head on over to Handmade for Christchurch to have a looksee through all their gorgeous stuff. There are plenty of things in there that I'm very tempted to bid on! x

FYI: It's OCD

So I have this "thing". Well, quite a lot of "things", really. I'm a tad on the OCD side. OK, quite a bit on the OCD side. It drives Nick (the most laid back of all the laid backs) close to insane. We're a good mix (most of the time) and we balance each other out. Where I'm highly strung, he's calm. Where I'm prone to worry, he's a glass-is-half-full all the time kinda guy. I'm a run around at a million miles an hour and get ten thousand things done in the space of an ad break person and he's a why don't you just sit down, put your feet up and have a beer type of dude.

I think I'm slowly getting better at relaxing and not being so anal retentive. Slowly. However, it still bugs me when the coffee table or the foosball table don't sit flush with the sofa (former) or the wall (latter). I can't handle the volume on the TV or the radio to be at an uneven number unless it's in multiples of five or ends in a three. And any even number that ends in four needs to be upped one so that it ends in five.

What else? I loathe going to bed without a shower. I just imagine yucky little daytime germs crawling all over me and through the bed. I can't handle dust. I don't like things being left on the floor (Red's things, I'm slowly learning to accept - not that I have a choice - but when Nick gets home and dumps all his crap on the floor, well, that's another story). The shower curtain needs to be pulled along to the right spot when not in use. There can't be gaps in the drapes when they're closed and when open, they have to be all the way open. Things must be in straight, neat piles. I don't like my bedside table to be cluttered. The spare bedroom door must be closed. Towels must be folded in a particular way. Things in the pantry must be correspondingly grouped neatly. God, I could go on.

I'm crazy. I know. But none of this particularly bothers me. What does bother me though is this: yes, I've learnt to chill out a bit since becoming a Mum BUT when it comes to having time out I feel like it's such a precious time that it needs to be perfect. Like right now. My Mum has taken Red away for the afternoon and there's things I want to do. I want to have a nap, I want to read my book, I want to start making some necklaces and also string the paper cranes I made for Redford's room. In order to make this all feel perfect however, there needs to be no clutter. The house must be tidy. At this very moment I can't rest while knowing that there's Duplo scattered all over the nursery (plus it needs a hoover), there's washing in the dryer to be folded and mine and Nick's room has an unmade bed and clothes on the floor. I can't see this (I'm in the lounge) but I know it's there and I keep thinking about it and I can't "relax" til it's done. 


QUESTION: How the heck can I get over this?! I want to be able to sit down and have time out as soon as I'm given the chance no matter what state the house is in. I have so little time to enjoy my own company and I can't even enjoy it!


What to do? What to do? If you've got an answer, please, let me know! I don't think I could ever be one to live in a constant state of disarray but I want to, at least, be able to sit down and have a cuppa while a basket of washing to be folded and Redford's toys remain untouched on the floor.

Pockets. Pock. Ets.

Why, oh, why do babies have pockets on their pants? 

So I get why their jeans have pockets because jeans have pockets. But Redford's jeans have twice as many pockets as mine do.

He has many pockets on his shorts and even some on his leggings.

In fact, he even has pockets on some of his shirts and t-shirts.

What, pray tell, will he put in his pockets? His cell phone? His car keys? His ID for when he pops down to the off-license for a 12 pack? 

Is it just because pockets are cool? That baby jeans would look a bit naff without pockets? Why not use fake pockets? Like on womens jeans when they sew the pockets closed and cut them off so they don't make your hips look enormous.

I just don't get it. The only thing Redford uses his pockets for is to store food in. A bit of soggy banana sandwich here, a slice of melon there. Problem is though, he forgets he stores them there and then I find them hanging from the top of the washing machine drum or smooshed (and dried to a nice crust after being hung on the line) into the inner cup of my bra.

Pockets. Why?

And just for a slight change of subject. Here's a bit of Arj & Poopy for you. Shpants. Why put pockets on baby clothes when you could make shpants?

 

Help please! The big O-N-E....

Little Red isn't one for a few months yet but I'm already thinking about his bash and I need your help. What to do? Do we have a big party with family, our friends and all his little buddies or do we just keep it small with family and close friends?

On one hand I think it should be big - Red's important to us and a lot of other people and it's such a milestone (having said that though, we'd do a 'no presents' policy so he doesn't end up with mountains of stuff) and on the other hand, I think maybe it should just be small as he has no idea what's going on and it's more of a milestone for us as parents, right?

So I want to know what you guys did for you littlies first birthdays. Comment below or email me at bonniesaysyes@gmail.com. 

Thanks ladies x

Dearest Christchurch....

If I could bundle all your people up in the palm of my hand I would give them a big kiss and a cuddle and tell them everything would be OK. 

If I could rebuild your city like I build Redford's Duplo I would build you the loveliest, brightest city there ever was (complete with a giant Robo-Duck in the centre of town).

If I had a magic wand I would bring back all the loved ones you've lost, find all your pets and clean up your mucky footpaths.

If I had the biggest oven in the world I would make thousands of cupcakes with sprinkles and if I could I would make hot chocolates to go with them with extra chocolate, extra marshmallows and a Whittaker's Sante bar dipped in each one.

If I had loads of money I would give it all to you.

I could go on, but I won't. You get the point. And I'm pretty sure hundreds upon thousands of people not only in NZ but in the world feel exactly the same as I do. And maybe I can't do the things above but I can do something.

Last Thursday I washed and packaged up three sets of big people bedding and four sets of little people bedding, pillows, blankets and two huge boxes of baby clothes, socks, hats and toys and sent them down on a truck. When I delivered my donations to Wigan Street I was totally overwhelmed by the manpower and amount of.... stuff that was waiting to be sent and I was glad I could do my part.

Over the next couple of days I'm going to make some lovely creations to be auctioned through Handmade for Christchurch and then I'm fishing out my most prized possession (my red and gold brocade, fully boned Zambesi dress) and selling it on Trade Me with all proceeds going to Red Cross (I just need to top up my account first, oops!)

And oh! I wish (and hope) I can do more. It just melts my heart to see everyone mucking in and doing their part for a city and it's people who need all the help they can get right now.

What have you done? I want to hear all of it!!

Big snuggles for everyone xx

You know you're a Mum when....

you see people's lives torn apart on the news and all you want to do is desperately hug your kids. Life is put into perspective. You find yourself standing over your baby's cot watching him sleep and reminding yourself just how lucky you are.

You know you're a Mum when....

you look in the mirror at the end of the day and realise you've been walking around with mashed Weetbix in your hair. 

All day. True story.

The day I fought a losing battle

Lunchtime. Mess. Brainstew. Aaaaaaaaaaargh!

 The culprit - couscous, sweet corn, pumpkin & banana.

 A deft ninja whack of the spoon while I had

my head turned sent lunch running down the

cupboards - woe is me!

The floorboards are enjoying their meal. Thankfully we

have the neighbour's cat to clean up the scraps. Although

she does seem to be getting increasingly fat....

The face of a boy who is getting bathed VERY soon.

Aaaand it ends up on the legs too. 

Everywhere but in his tummy it seems.

 

 Hey Mum, do you like seafood?

Not particularly.

SEE FOOD!!! And lots of it.

 

I'm reminded somewhat of a muddy dog

restrained on a towel until the bath is run.

Clean and mess free. Now to tackle the kitchen

floor. And the cupboards. And the bath. And the

clothes. And the....

Ahem. Just for good measure, this was after-dinner pudding. 

Plum, banana and avocado. This time I fed him in the 

nuddy and pre-ran the bath. Such is life with a piglet!

 

You know you're a Mum when....

you know the morning weekday cartoon schedule off by heart.

The magic pudding

Sometimes getting Redford to finish his dinner is like getting Nick to willingly do the vacuuming - near impossible. A lot of coercion is needed, including singing, many spoons, rice cakes, you name it, I've tried it. He does get there in the end but unfortunately he's half me and has inherited my incredibly short attention span and would rather twist in his highchair a little too Exorcist-ish for my liking and try rub his grubby hands on our nice new curtains.

Last night though, I hit the jackpot. We stumbled through his dinner (bolognaise, rice and kumara), with him getting more and more distracted and me getting more and more frustrated as the minutes went on. Dinner down, we moved onto pudding. I had a beautifully ripe avocado that I was desperate to use and wanted to pump Little Red with some good fats yet for some reason he's vetoed avo as of late - why, I have no earthly idea. So I got creative and mashed a quarter of it with half a banana and half a black doris plum and holy moly, I've never seen the child eat so fast! And he cried when it was all done.

As you can see, he morphed into somewhat of a sparrow - sticking his neck out as far as he could and opening his gob wide (for once):

Booyah! That is freaking good:

The last remnants, I can feel the tears welling already:

It doesn't look that appetizing but I had a wee taste and I have to admit, I struggled to give it to him.... I wanted to keep it all for myself! It was absolutely scrummy. We did it again tonight and yet again, it went down a treat - you'd think all Red's Christmases had come at once! 

So if you're after a healthy, oh-so-delish pudding, I totally recommend this. And don't keep it all for baby, shove some in your gob too!

Love Monday's - the couscous monster strikes again!

So over on love miss bonnie I've started love monday's which is dedicated to what YOU love! Over here on The Baby Bump, I love my little couscous monster. I'm a big fan of the stuff so I was pretty chuffed when Redford gobbled it all in one go the first time I gave it to him. Here's some pictures (cute, but hella messy!)....

 I heart couscous!

 The couscous beard.

 More please!

The monster strikes again....

You know you're a Mum when....

you get into bed at night and end up pulling a Duplo block from under your butt, a maraca from under your pillow and a stretch-n-grow from between your toes. Oh, and there seems to be a mysterious damp patch that smells a lot like regurgitated milk on your bedspread.

Sweet treats - Nicky's pineapple muffins

If made correctly, these muffins should look a little something like the picture above. Haha, funny lady. I crack myself up. Meh. But! In all seriousness, this recipe has kindly been passed down to me by my darling ma-in-law and these are AMAZING and addictive and should be made with ease but eaten with gusto. For example, today I ate three. I do not feel guilty about this whatsoever and if there had been more, I would've eaten those too. I wouldn't have felt guilty about that either. In fact, I would probably eat a whole batch of these babies and feel pretty proud.

Anyhoooo, here's the recipe....

1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup white flour
1/2 cup wholemeal flour
1/2 cup wheat bran
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
Small tin crushed pineapple (pref. in juice not syrup)
1/2 cup sultanas
4 oz butter
1/2 cup milk
1 egg

Combine dry ingredients. Add pineapple and sultanas to dry ingredients. Melt butter, add egg and milk and stir. Pour onto dry ingredients and mix just to combine - don't over mix! Spoon into muffin trays and bake at 190 degrees C for approx 20 minutes. Leave in tins for a few minutes then transfer onto rack. Let cool and shove them in your gob. Et voila!

So the good thing about this recipe is you can mix it up a bit - use stewed apple (or any other fruit) instead of pineapple, substitute sultanas for raisins or dried apricots and if you want to use just wholemeal flour then make up the amount you'd use for white flour. If you're using pineapple in syrup maybe cut down the sugar a little otherwise they can come out a little too sweet.


Happy baking!

PTSD in motherhood - the KMB article

Last year I wrote an article for the Go Ask Your Mother panel over at KMB on post traumatic stress disorder in early motherhood. I had no idea it even existed until very recently and I found it an interesting and very sobering topic. Here's the article below:

Knock, knock. Who's there? PTSD. Oh, you're not welcome here.

Picture this: you're pregnant, your belly's ripe, the baby's baked, the bags are packed and the birth plan is written up and thrice checked. You know each step word for word, you've mapped out the quickest way to the maternity ward and the last four weeks have been spent envisioning your baby's magical birth. But now it's D-day and things aren't going to plan. Not at all. Not even close. Your natural water birth has morphed into a drug embellished emergency C-section and all your childbirth ideals have left the operating table for the brighter lights of Daydream Land. Everything went fine, though - you're still in one piece, baby's healthy, your partner has regained the colour in his face and the steadiness in his hands but what now? Surely there's got to be some emotional or psychological backlash for things going so horribly askew? For some women, we climb back on our horses and proceed as normal. For others however, it's not that simple.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is something I'd never really thought much about, for all I knew it was an ailment that afflicted war vets and car crash survivors and rightly so. That is until I myself was diagnosed with it three years ago after it crept up on me unannounced, arising from a harrowing ordeal in my teenage years. This was totally unrelated to childbirth of course, but that's not the point - it got me thinking. How many other people in this world suffer from PTSD and what exactly sets it off? I mean, we're talking about an often debilitating disorder that can strike at any time - right while the trauma iron is still burning hot or years down the track when you least expect it. PTSD can stem from a life threatening even such as a natural disaster or severe physical or psychological pain or abuse to name a couple. Put simply, any event that inflicts such psychological trauma on an individual that they cannot comprehend nor cope with the experience, PTSD may become and uninvited acquaintance.

When a friend sent me an article on PTSD in post childbirth/early motherhood situations (which cites that mothers who either fear their birthing experience or thing it will be amazing are at a higher risk of developing PTSD) I began to wonder just how common it was. The birth of my son didn't go according to my "ideals" at all (even when I thought I didn't have any) and I carried a slight emotional chip on my shoulder for a while because of that. I certainly didn't suffer the nightmares, vivid flashbacks or hyper vigilance that are common amongst PTSD sufferers but I definitely did get a little hot, flustered and nauseous every time I drove past the hospital. I wondered if PTSD was a lot more common in new mothers than was recognised and as it turns out, it is. Why then, are we only beginning to hear about it now? Well, according to many sources PTSD is still regularly diagnosed as postnatal depression (PND). Why? Because the symptoms are often so similar to PND it can sometimes be impossible to tell the difference.

Let's look at just a few of the warning signs of PND: sadness, a feeling of being overwhelmed, panic attacks, a lack of bonding between you and your baby and sleep and/or eating disorders. These can pop up soon after the birth or months later and can sometimes, without treatment, slowly heal themselves within time. Now this is where it gets tricky. PTSD can also rear it's ugly head soon after birth, months or even years later. The first onset of symptoms (such as nightmares, vivid flashbacks and panic attacks) can hang around for a while and if left to fester can morph into what's called cover up symptoms which range from depression and eating disorders to severe panic attacks and dissociation from your baby, partner and life. Sound familiar? Just like PND, right? Well, yes and no. The scary thing is, if PTSD is left untreated it doesn't go away like postnatal depression can. It can hang around. And around. Aaaand around until you have no choice but to deal with it. And nobody wants to spend their child's wee years feeling like the sky's about to fall and their sanity has well and truly done a fat Elvis and left the building.

So. I won't end this article with a string of advice because as new mothers we all get enough to last us a lifetime, nor do I want to end it on a bad note because there's always loads of light at the end of the tunnel. But I will say this (I know, I know, I haven't suffered PTSD first hand from childbirth but I have suffered extensively from it) if you feel off, if you feel strange, if things aren't going the way you thought, listen to what your body, mind and emotions are telling you and talk to someone, anyone! Your partner, your best friend, fellow mums, your bank teller for all it matters, just talk and talk and talk because at some point you'll be pointed in the right direction and bang, help will be standing there on your doorstep, looking as good as Ryan Reynolds with chocolates and flowers (and no shirt). Try not to pack it all into a little box and store it in the basement of your brain to let it gather dust and get shoved around to fit more boxes in that will hide it until three years down the track when you decide it's time to do a clean out and, oh dear, there's that box and now I have to unpack it and see what's inside and decide what on earth I'm going to do with it all. Catch my drift? Good.

My motto? If you're feeling crap, talk to the quack (or pretty much anyone else that you want to, but "anyone else that you want to" doesn't rhyme with crap and doesn't really have the same ring to it....)

You know you're a Mum when....

one of the most satisfying noises on earth is that of your baby's enormous belch after a big milk feed.

Uh oh, my baby appears to have a brain

If you'd told me a couple of weeks ago that Little Red's got a brain on him and knows how to get what he wants, when he wants I would've said "Pish!" and told you to get your head checked. If you told me that now though, I would solemnly nod my head in agreement and say "Why yes, you're right on the money with that one, dear."

How did I come to this conclusion, you ask? I credit it to a cold, hard slap in the face with the realisation that my sweet little angel is growing up and therefore, getting ready to push them boundaries further and further. And further.

So a week before Chrimbo, the wee man starting sprouting some teeth. He was a tad grumpy, a tad clingy and (more than) a tad sleepless. Our amazing nighttime sleepasaurus now saw fit to wake up at 9pm-ish as well as 2am for a feed. OK, I thought, it's alright, he's just sore and grouchy and soon enough he'll back to his old sleepy time habits and we'll all get a decent night's kip again. Nope. We got through the festivities and went on holiday where things began to get worse. Sleeping in a small bach with three other people, one doesn't feel inclined to let their baby "cry it out" so for the sanity of the household I cuddled and fed Redford whenever he woke. Sometimes he woke once, other times he woke three or four times.

Our first two nights back home, however, were fine. Little Red had me tricked into thinking he was back into the swing of big boy sleeping - with tricked being the operative word here, every night for the past two weeks he's been waking anytime between 9 and 11pm (sometimes more than once) and then at 2am as well as any amount of times between 3 and 7am. I try leaving him but he just screams to the point where I'm pretty sure I'm slowly losing hearing in one ear even though his room is across the hall.

Then the night before last I had an epiphany. Little Red was crying in his cot so, realising he wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon, I picked him up and he stopped. I put him back in and he started again. Then I got him out once more and.... silence. I gave him a wee feed thinking perhaps he needed a top up. He didn't. He just lay there in my arms cooing away and grinning like the cat that got the cream. The little (ahem) rascal. And me! What had I done?! All that hard work getting him to settle himself and I'd gone and erased it all in one foul swoop.

So after about four hours of sleep last night I decided this morning that I would keep a close eye on this behaviour to see how it evolved. Apparently I've been wandering around with a cheeky-baby shaped veil over my eyes for the past few weeks because as soon as I started to really take note of what was going on I saw Redford's little brain ticking over in the cold, harsh light of day. The boy's been taking me for one hell of a ride and I've been lolling about in the "he's-too-little-to-know-what-he's-doing" cart picking my bloody fingernails.

Another example of the tot's wily ways is mealtimes. The boy's hungry but thinks it's funny to clamp his mouth shut when the spoon hits those lips. He also has loads of fun knocking his sippy cup or throwing his crackers on the floor and then leaning right out of his highchair to stare at them until you pick them up (upon which he repeats said cracker throwing). And, in the last couple days, he's grown ever so partial to throwing the odd tantrum in his highchair (complete with swinging fists and bouncing bottom) when he'd rather be playing. All of this, of course, had gone straight over my head until today when I realised exactly what he was up to and decided two could play at that game but there would be only one winner (me). He clamps his mouth shut, I daub a bit of food on the tray to distract him and ta da! The gob magically opens up. He throws his crackers off, I pick them up, say "all gone" and put them on the table for him to see that they're not coming back. Needless to say, he soon gets bored of that game. And my answer to his I'd-rather-be-wreaking-havoc-elsewhere tantrums? I simply ignored him. I sat there with my head turned the other way until he got bored and started twiddling his thumbs.

Ha! I win! Having said that though, I have yet to see how tonight's sleep will go. Nick and I will be going back to the controlled crying technique from now on to (fingers crossed) battle those late night whinge marathons. As we speak, I am steeling myself for a night of snatched shut eyes in between screams. Sheesh. Watch this space - hopefully I'll survive the night with my hearing and my sanity in tact!  

PS. We attacked the midnight tantrums with gusto last night - Little Red woke up at 10pm crying, I knew he couldn't be hungry and it was nice and toasty in his room so we stealthily enforced the controlled crying again and it worked.... eventually. An hour later of me popping my head round the door every 5, 10 then 15 minutes and saying "Night, night sweetheart. I love you" he was asleep and didn't wake again til 4am! Yippee! I did feed him at 4 though and he was hungry but perhaps in a few weeks we'll tackle the 4am wake-ups. Baby steps, baby steps.

Follow-follow up: Since above PS Redford has been sleeping 6pm-4am and then after a wee feed he's back in the land of nod until 8am! Awesomeness.

You know you're a Mum when....

you get Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen stuck in your head at least four times a week. No? Just me? OK then.

You know you're a Mum when....

nothing grosses you out anymore. Particularly poop.