Emily

I spent an hour peeling, chopping, steaming, mashing carrots and waiting for them to cool, for you to cough them all over me. Its seems that carrots were not a winner that day

I pushed you around the park for an hour, hoping you may have a nap.  From under your shade cover all anyone could hear were the vibrations of a baby blowing loud raspberries.

You tease the dog with your rusk biscuits.  You then proceed to smear biscuit mush all through your eyebrows.

You have only decided that "tummy time" is a fun concept after you saw all the other babies at Mother's Group doing it.

You like to eat grass.

You distracted the checkout chick so much at woolies today that she didn't even notice your mum and dad.

You like watching Top Gear with dad.

You like pulling the covers over your head.  Its a much more fun game when mum says "Wheres Emily?" and you laugh.

You love looking at your bear pictures when you wake up every morning.

Galoomph is still your favourite song

When I don't understand Emily speak, you blow raspberries at me in frustration.

When you wee, sometimes you get a fright.

You find men with beards fascinating.

You like to listen to dad on the phone.

You find labels beyond interesting.  Bugger the toy, give me the label.

You hate it when I put singlets over your head.

You love meeting people. 

Anything within arms reach is fair game

You love Tessa-dogs beard.  You like looking at the fur in your hand.  Tessa has learnt this game very quickly.

You hate socks.  It may take an hour but you manage to wiggle them off.

You love being part of our discussion time.  You sit and listen.  You will know a lot about budgets when you grow up

You have to hold your own bottle now

You find the most random things funny.  My foot tickling your belly was a highlight.

You must try and eat my phone if I try and send a text.

Squealing is fun. 

You know what? The biggest thing of all? 

I love you.

So so much Emily.  I love every part of you.  We thank our lucky stars that we have you.  I cannot even imagine a world without an Emily.  I hope that one day you will realise the love you have brought to so many people. 

I love that I now, love you so much.  It was a tough road but we are here.  I sit here in my lovely new home, you asleep in your cot, your dad playing with the Jeep and I have tears streaming down my face.  I cannot ever put into words how much it means to have you as my daughter.  I hope you can have a beautifl life filled with all the adventures that you deserve.  I want you to see the world, fall in love, make mistakes, take risks, dream, graduate, make those finger paintings and put toast into the DVD player.  You know what I can;t wait for? The best part of the whole thing?  One day you will say that word I am so proud of...

Mum.

Ninja Tool Belt.

I need a tool-belt.  Like the one tradies have.  In it I could have a variety of on-the-go neccesities: Mobile, baby wipes, dribble rags, remote, half a squished banana,  fly swat and mortein.  I mean seriously, how many bugs and spiders can one girl take before I have to move ship to higher grounds?  I am done.  Send me a commercial quantity of Mortein and I will be forever yours.

Team this bug attack with the fact that at Ninja Towers we are also curbing our swearing habits.  Its seriously hard work when you are minding your own business and this gigantic 8 legged fanged monster jumps out of no where and all you can say is "Fiddlesticks"  Seriously though, whats with the spider population migrating to my suburb?  Did a memo go out to all in spiderland saying that there was a free sausage sizzle on?  If you don't look too mean you get set free? Well back off my 8 legged friends, I have a size 9 and 1/2 foot and that is a whole lotta of squishiness right there.

I was playing the fun not-so-new-game of putting Emily to bed. If you miss a trick or stumble over her not so quiet play gym she is so awake its not funny. You have to have your wits about you when putting her to bed in her "I'm fighting this sleep if its the last thing I do mmuuhhhhaaaahhhh!" mood.  She takes any noise as an invitation to be awake and let me tell you, its not so fun when its 11am and you haven't had any coffee yet and your pj's look like they could walk by themselves. 

Anyways, on this particular morning I was suffering with stop smiling at thin air..you are tired.  Go. To. Sleep. I was settling Miss Kicky-one off in her cot when this creepy not-so-little critter of the 8 legged variety scuttled across the wall.  I did a double take.  It had already taken me an hour to get her to this state.  Any movement now and she would wake.  I couldn't leave her with the spider.  Could I squish it quietly?  I edged backwards out the room...grabbed my trusty haviana...WHAM!

Two seconds later, we were back on the couch watching The Morning Show.  Ho-Hum.

Another scenario of spidery badness was this morning when I was doing the trillionth load of washing (I often wonder why I scored the husband who has a secret life as a centipede..so many god damn socks!) As I threw another banana encrusted baby suit into the wash I was also greeted by a low-flying spider.  I did a pretty little dance that one does when they think the said spider is in their hair.  Where was it? GAH!! Don't scream..Emily will know something fun is happening and want to partake.  Just short of ringing my mum, I took comfort in seeing the spider was infact, not in my hair but doing a little jig of its own on my laundry wall. 

See, if I had my trusty Ninja Tool Belt (back off, my idea) I wouldn't be in these predicaments.  I wouldn't have to keep Emily entertained and promises of no rolling away, I could just grab my swat or my trusty Mortein from my holster and my haviana thongs could remain bug-free.

Lauren:3 Spider:0

Let there be light!

Why was I awake?  Through my bleary eyes I couldn't see any screamy red lights coming from the Ninja Monitor.  It wasn't Chris' alarm as I'd already kicked his shins until he stopped the buzzing so calmingly coming from the corner.  So what was it?  Oh Hang on!  Those two bright headlights shining into my room may have something to do with it.  Freaking brilliant.

I shuffled into the kitchen.  Peering through the blinds didn't give me an answer..maybe Chris would know. I have never ever gotten used to this early morning lark, you would think after having a baby you would be used to it? Nope, not on this model.  Chris was doing is usual morning fanfare of burn toastie, make a vat of coffee and shove lunch into bag.  He looked as awake as me.  He mumbled something about sterlising bottles and lifting meat out for dinner (bonus points for him..I have had a few spits in the last week over doing every.single.damn.thing.)

"She awake?"
"No, I think aliens are invading"
"Huh?"
"headlights..window"

We both walked out the front door.  I could see that spilt second of what-should-I-do go across Chris' face.  A truck was parked next door with its lights blaring into our bedroom.  I could see his thought process, if he went and told them what he really thought he would be late for work.  Also if he said something he would spend all day at work freaking out that the burly lights in my window men would come round and retaliate.

So what was this debacle about?  What was so urgent at 6.30am?  What had woke me from a beautiful slumber?

A freaking porta-loo.

See, all this excitement started yesterday.  I had just got Emily to a happy place they call sleep and headed straight to my room and ponded what Wednesdays outfit should consist of.  I am running out of options as I refuse to do any washing until the concrete is set, so I can use my clothes line.  Today it looks like rain.  Anyways.  I decided that being a million degrees today, shorts will suffice. Outside I could hear a fair bit of commotion..radio's blaring and something being off loaded from a truck.  Whatwhatwhat? So I pretended to check the mail (9.30am!!) and have a sneaky gander.

Neighbours! Well, not actually real neighbours but a fence that will hopefully contain all the rubbish and malark that building brings.  Waited till the truck left and took Emily to survey the new addition to the neighbourhood.  Took a grand total of 3 seconds.  Just a fence really.  Texted Chris anyway.

So, we now have a fence and a portaloo next door.  Although you can still see the remains of Chris 4WD adventure in the mud.  See, the mud here is like clay.  One step in it and you have instant platforms.  Chris wanted to inspect our fences one day and thought that driving up the empty block would be fun.  So fun that he nearly got bogged and you can see where he exited the said block sideways.  Maybe not a story to tell new neighbours.

Oh dear.  I can see a few blog posts about this one.

Mystical Beings.

"If you are very very quiet you may spot one..move slowly as your don't want to scare them off.  See over there?  Its a rare one.  Wow..I have never seen one do that before"

You know when you ring a company up to book something in and you can just tell by the tone of their voice that they have never ever heard of you before? Communicating with the rare species of clothes-line fairies takes time and patience.  It requires a lot to spot one and reel it in and make it cement two poles into the ground so I no longer have to stomp the ground every time another white towel blows into our mud oblivion.

"So you are calling from where?"
"When were we supposed to come?
"What was your name again?"
lots of paper rustling...
"I will call you right back"

Now, I had hope.  I had hope because once upon a time, the mystical beings called the fence gods actually showed up and did the magical act of putting up our wait for it...our fences!  Now they also managed to do a disapearing act and forget to finish the job but with a very big net they were captured again and put back to work. 

Another mysical being that are sometimes spotted in these parts is the very rare Tile-breathing-dragon.  Not so much a dragon, more so a balding squat greek man that once appeared to say that yes, one day if it was a full moon and the stars aligned that he would come back and turn that tile the right way round. He may even do that death-defying act of filling in those gaps where surprise-surprise grout is supposed to be.

On my trusty wikipedia, I am told that also spotted in these streets, it was once was said that the garage roller door man comes and fixes your uneven roller door!  Well I have my binoculars at the ready and have yet to jot that one down in my rare species book.

Now it takes a lot for me to be out of bed before the baby monitor tells me so.  This morning was different.  I was given inside information...the clothes-line fairy was indeed making his debut in my backyard.  This very morning at 7am.  Chris took one look at my not-so-impressed face and put the kettle on.  I sat on the couch at the ready..I was a woman possessed.  No more poking my eyes out with clothes horses thankyouverymuch.

And there he was.  He must have hidden his wings under his boiler suit.  He came bearing shovels, concrete and the extremely rare attachment of a clothes line.  Be still my beating heart. A clothes-line fairy at my front door. phew, they really do exist.

Another mystical being is a Ninja that plays quietly while "I just finish typing this sentence"

TGIF

I have a love/hate relationship with weekends. The whole Ninja rearing business usually gets the better of me by Thursday.  Before that, I have not flinched a second while Emily pulls my hair or smears dribble onto my clean top. I even can smile through strained teeth as the dog has decided that all her toys must be out along side Emily's.  I even don't mind that Emily thinks her morning nap is code for lets scream crazy loud and stop when you come and see what the hysteria is about.

Come Thursday I have waved the white flag.  I am battle weary...someone send me a second pair of hands ASAP.  It occured to me that I have become quite skilled in doing things one handed.  I had the I am NOT playing by myself one  nestled on my hip and I managed to:  Put a load of washing one (You try it one handed)  Re-stock her nappy bag, tidy the kitchen and convince her that playing on our bed is super dooper fun while I get dressed. 

Do not get me started that everything in a Ninja-grasp is fair game.  Whatever it is will no doubt end up in her mouth, becomes a not-so-fun game while you have stinky I'm nearly dead nappies in arms reach.  Distraction is a key word in this household.  "Chris, can you please distract Emily from clawing out my eyes while I make dinner?" 

Back to why my weekend are a bit hit and miss.  Now by all means, Chris and I went into this parenthood adventure will the full knowledge that we were it.  No Granparents around the corner.  No please come and save me now before I spend another day crying on the nursery floor.  I laugh at my version of hard work pre-Emily.  Oh was I in for a shock.  They posed the question at my MG (Mother's Group..geez get with it) if everyone had found this role much harder than they anticipated.  Every single hand in the room went up.  No, Emily you can keep your hand down.

Friday finally rolls around and I can taste the freedom.  I watch the clock and as 4pm ticks over I can visualise Chris hopping into the tank.  I also visualise him stopping by Dan Murphy's and buying me a lovely bottle of vino.  A girl can hope.  I love Fridays.  We usually have something yummy for tea after our big walk and after Emily has gone to bed we kick back and plan what the next couple of days hold.

This is where is sometimes goes a tad pear shape.  See, I have spent 80% of my week playing the Ninja keeper role in these 4 walls.  Last thing I want to do it continue that for another 2 days.  On the other hand, I don't have the physical strength to Tessa-dog proof fences..or landscape front gardens.  Stuff that Chris does to make this house a home.  Stuff that I have asked him to scamble to the top of the list, so I don't go loopy with another week of a muddy pawed puppy.  Or have the depressing sight of a builders playground as my view when I spend many a hour feeding the hungry one.

I wish I could clone myself.

I wish the washing line fairy would also appear with a..washing line.  That would be a fun concept.

A Ninja in her native habitat

Whats so interesting now? The light bulb? Really? You are smiling at a light bulb?

Emily is onto me, I know it. Its like she can read my mind. Just as I'm relaxing into the couch for the first time in 5 hours, the cries start to emanate from the nursery. Just as I'm picking up the phone, she decides that playing happily by herself is by far the last thing she wants to do right now. I have also decided that nothing about Emily these days is quiet.

So in the plight for happiness in Ninja Towers we are playing the new and not-so-exciting game of "If I'm really boring and don't excite you, I may have a bigger chance in getting you to sleep" Emily is like a wound up spring sometimes (remind you of anyone??) and needs ample time to even consider the idea of sleep. Its like a freaking stage show round here these days, not only do I have to tire the blighter out by all matter of singing and dancing, then I have to revert to Boring-Bob pants before settling off to the land of nod.

Its a fine art to get her off to sleep. Man, its a fine art even keeping her awake...happy. If you miss a single beat, you have blown it. For the whole day. I feel like I should have gone to clown school for all the hopping and silly dancing I do. Here is what yesterday contained:

7.00am The groaning from the baby monitor tells me that a certain person is awake and requires my immediate attention.

7.05am Its like changing an octopus, legs and arms everywhere and all the while fighting every single effort of me changing her nappy. Contemplate masking taping into onto her.

7.15am Juggle Emily on one hip, unscrew lid off the bottle and heap the formula in. Lose hearing in one ear as she tells me how hungry she really is.

7.20am Somehow position the 7kg one where I don't get pins and needles all down my arms. She starts gulping down her food like she hasn't been fed in decades. Forgot to get a dribble cloth. Sleeve will do. Endure crap morning TV..throw things when Richard Wilkins comes on.

7.30am Convince Emily that her play mat is the place to be. Throw a bagel in the toaster and make coffee. The noises coming from the play mat tell me that its time to get a move on.

7.40am Story time. Try and make "Where is the Green Sheep" sound like the best story ever written. If you don't make it exciting she will pull your hair. That hurts.

7.50am Emily decided chewing books is more fun. I try and remember the words to the song she liked at Mother's Group. Settle for a round of Old MacDonald. And wheels on the bus. And twinkle twinkle.

8am Can't decide if the grumps are tired grumps or hungry grumps.

8.01am 2 sips from a bottle then distracted by the dog.

8.03am Start winding down..have a long cuddle and my fave part, breathing in that lovely clean baby smell. Finds my nose very interesting. Tries to pull nose off my face.

8.15am Not impressed with being held anymore, we have a game of tummy-time. All starts well and I can see her brain working overtime.

8.17am Clean puke off carpet.

8.20am Start another round of quiet time, try rocking and make soothing sleepy sounds. Emily thinks the light bulb is hilarious. Try not to get sucked in by "No, I'm not tired at all"faces.

8.45am Try another round of "Are you hungry now?" Seems to concentrate long enough to have a proper feed. Manage to contain the milk dam forming under her chin. Forget about it and it smells like a compost a few hours later.

9am SLLLLEEEEEP! I carefully lay her down in her cot, all the while avoiding eye contact. She smiles and pokes her tongue out at me. Not falling for the cute act..I will win this one!!

9.01am Soothe the yowly one by rubbing her head and telling her I will see her in an hour. Edge out of room like its a filled with mouse traps

9.02am Pretend I am doing jobs. Anything to distract myself gluing my ear to her door. It can become quite obsessive waiting for a baby to settle

9.10am Still hear the grizzling and general trying to go to sleep fanfare. Do dishwasher.

9.20am Consider it safe that she is asleep. Do a little victory dance in hallway and wish I had someone there to high five. Self Settling Super Star!

9.22am Run round like a complete fruit loop trying to get everything done. Washing on, clothes put away, cut up veggies for dinner, wash hair, sterilize bottles, soak pear glazed bibs and kick the dog outside. May or may not have had a quick gander at facebook.

10.20am The "Its official, I'm awake" noises come from across the house. Bugger, just thought it was safe to have a quick caffeine fix.

10.30am After changing the oh-so-squirmy one we decide that a bit of singing wouldn't go astray. Tessa-dog hides under the couch.

10.40am Decide that Emily can continue her current affairs discussion with The Elephant on her play mat. I finish organising dinner. (oh so nommy roast veggie, Parmesan and bacon pasta)

11am Find the biggest bib we own and wrangle it over the one who hates bibs. We are starting in the world of solids..so before I make a vat of something she hates we will make do with Aldi baby food. (Heinz for those playing at home)

11.05am Makes lots of silly "Mmmmm isn't this yummy?" and "Open wide, yumyum!" noises. Convince Emily that food goes into mouth, not ears. Please don't flick it at me either. If I give you the spoon you will choke on it. No, lets not eat the washer either.

11.15am Pry the soggy pumpkin mash sodden clothes off her. Comb potato out of my hair.

11.30am Saddle up the troops! Its walkies! Achieve the unthinkable, dog in harness and baby in pram. Happy I got it the right way round..DOCS would be onto me otherwise.

11.35am Navigate through building estate madness. Curse messy builders. Make it to the park in one piece. Tell Tessa-dog if she wasn't such a runaway, she wouldn't have to be tied to the swings. Emily thinks the swings are the bees knees. Chucks tanty when its time to come home. An ant has bitten the bejeezus out of my leg.

12.15 Home and bottle time.

12.30 The 3 day poo drought is over. Very over. So over that I can't place 5 minutes of my day.

1.00pm Need food. What I defrosted looks suspiciously like the crap I made a couple of weeks ago: Slow cooker chicken FAIL. Remember home made sausage rolls in freezer. Done

1.15pm Talk to Emily through mouthfuls of food. She is not finding my attention being elsewhere fun. The Yowls get louder. Distract her by dancing like a fool with a sausage roll in my mouth.

1.30pm Bottle time.

1.45pm Sleep time!

2.30pm Awake time!

2.35pm Play the game of "Its fun being on your tummy, we have to do it or the Nurse will get grumpy we don't have adequate head control"

3pm Bottle time, channel surf and wish we were rich so we could have foxtel. Make do with mundane daytime crap.

3.10pm Harness the kicky one into the high chair, so she can watch me potter around. She makes a lot of noise and decides that all toys must be bashed very hard against the tray.

3.30pm Great. 2 poo-plosions in one day. Why couldn't she have waited till dad was home. Send Chris a text saying he is responsible for the next one.

3.45pm Play mat time, give her a few balls and new toys to throw around.

3.55pm The grizzly baby rears her not so happy head

4pm Drag all the books and toys into the lounge room. See what one tickle her fancy. None of them apparently. Songs about pink socks seem to do the trick.

4.30pm Bottle time. Start thinking about Easter plans. Start to think about whether I am brave enough to tackle the train into the city.

4.35pm Turn telly OFF. I tell Emily if she ever thinks about being like Lara Bingle, she will have a very grumpy mum indeed. Send telepathic messages to Chris: Bring your wife a Twix home.

4.45pm Chris arrives Twix-less

Pass me a bottle.

You know when you are in complete denial about something, you just keep pottering about until someone brings it to your attention? Well I think I have been doing just that. What started as a extra bottle at lunchtime turned into another bottle at dinner...now its even for breakfast. I didn't even realise it was happening until a few days ago when Chris brought it to my attention.

No, I am not talking about bottles containing delicious bubbles but instead containing formula. Emily is now weaned from me. I need to accept that and move on. Forgive me for the next couple of paragraphs that will no doubt contain a lot of burbling...and mother guilt.

I noticed a change around Christmas, my supply was slowly dropping and Emily was getting grumpy. So I gave her an extra feed of formula, just to get through the the horrid hours of a screaming bub. I persevered and continued the pain staking hourly feeds where she would claw my breast and smack her lips and almost look up to me and say "Where is the freaking milk?"

I continued and we had our good days and bad days. On the good days, my milk came quickly and could satisfy the hungry needs of a Ninja. On the bad days, I spent a good few hours sitting on my couch craning my neck and willing for enough milk to come and fill that gurgling tummy.

I was confused. Talking to my Maternal & Child Health Nurse, she mentioned that I could get a script to increase my supply, but that didn't sit well with me. I was getting sick of trying to answer the question: "How is she fed?" "Well, she is breastfed..and formula...and we are starting solids" Confused much?

It seems to be a popular question while pregnant, how you will feed your newborn. I very much wanted to breastfeed Emily and certainly thought once that decision was made it was smooth sailing.

My all time fondest memory of the first moments with Emily was her first feed. As most of you would now realise my labour was the all time most traumatic event in my life, so to have a positive glimpse of those horrific 13 hours is a break through! As they swooped her on my chest and her ink grey eyes searching for my breast, her mouth poised to go, she got to suckling straight away. It took a few days for my milk to come in, so I encouraged it by loooong feeds. Incorrect attachment in the early hours meant that some feeds required Chris to hold my hand tightly and me just to sob. It hurt. A lot.

I enjoyed feeding Emily, it was a special bond that only we had. When she was really upset, we would both strip down and have skin-on-skin contact through her feeds. It always settled her.

So for the last couple of weeks, I have been hanging onto our morning feed together. It was our time. But, I have to make a decision and stick to it. So, today has been 100% bottle fed. It hurts me that I have gone down this path, but I have a content baby that in the meantime has had a lark over the last hour smearing pear into her eyebrows.

I have no engorged breasts, no pain, no nothing. I remember in the early days of setting myself a goal of breastfeeding till Emily was 6 weeks and if then it was still an issue we would re-group. Well Emily is 5 months today and I can proudly move onto the next chapter.

I am also very excited that I can shelve my well used maternity bras and open the delightful draw that contains my favourite underwear..the push-up variety!

So, no doubt I will now have moved from the "Can't believe you are breastfeeding in public" to the "Is that formula in that bottle?" camp.

Can't win!

Twinkle Twinkle.

It dawned on me this afternoon, that as a parent you have to overcome a lot. Yep, I knew all about the sleepless nights, the there go my hipster jeans and the fact that leaving the house is a military operation. But someone somewhere failed to mention that you may at some point find yourself in a sing-a-long situation. Where you actually have to sing. Oh, don't you worry there are actions too.

I'm a pro at this Mother's Group shin-dig, I didn't even bat an eyelid this afternoon when conversation turned to the differing shades of baby poo... I just nodded along and had to fight all urges to puke in Emily's romper suit. I knew it was coming, the group starts the same every week. Singing. So there I was, sitting on the floor singing Twinkle Twinkle with gusto. I may as well not be there in Emily's eyes, she thinks I have organised this just for her..a bunch of woman singing all her favourite songs. They know the words.

See, my problem is that I never ever remember the words to any songs. If in doubt I make them up, which in the comfort of my lounge room is fine but not so cool in the world of mums. I try, I really do. Why can't they have a karaoke Mum's Group? It'd be great, they could project all the words to every song and I wouldn't have to worry whether Humpty fell off a wall or he went to market.. Don't even get me started that some songs require the coordination of actions. Each week we learn a new nursery rhyme, so just as I get my head around one..we are onto singing about wriggly snakes.

So in other baby-related news. I am on the search for an Emily pattern. No, I am not planning on knitting a life size version of her (though, I would love to..) I am trying to work out what to do and when to do it. Babies, as it seems love repetition. It makes them feel safe and secure to know whats coming next. Emily is a different kettle of fish, she lives in the land of don't over stimulate me, or you will never get more than 5 minutes peace. Reading a book before bedtime would mean that we would still be rocking her to sleep while Sandra Sully tells me all about the late night news. I don't want a routine as such, as we could never stick to it, I just want to know what she is communicating to me and what I should do with that information.

Its been a rollercoaster ride, but I can see the light! I am getting a hang of this parenting gig, I am getting to know this amazing girl I call my daugher and at the same time I am getting to know the real me again. We are having fun on the wobbly road to sitting, the messy path to solids and the bloody big hike to nursery rhyme happiness.

Come fly with me!

"You will be fine."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"What if she chucks a wobbler?"

I pulled the suitcase out from its hiding spot, dumped it on my bed and contemplated what I and a 4 month old would need in a week long escape to the land of all things grandparents. I stood and gazed at the myriad of clothes occupying the depths of our wardrobe. Why is it I have 6 pairs of jeans? and I hate them all. Why don't I have sensible sitting around the house clothes? Ah, bugger it. As far as know, the shearers in the shire wouldn't give a flying hoot whether I was wearing my jarmies or a batman costume.

I squished the last dribble cloth in and checked my ticket for the trillionth time, in a few hours, Emily and I will be flying above the clouds. Nervous me? Nooo, I was just chewing my nails for the fibre. I had every scenario covered and had a toy-chocked bag to prove it. I was paranoid the whole plane would revolt and demand me to sit in the toilet or something if Emily did anything more than just dribble on her dress.

As I walked up to the boarding gate, about 20 sets of eyes followed me. "Oh who's the poor sod that has to sit next to a baby?" We checked her pram in and stood by the window and pointed at the plane we were about to embark. Well, before that happened a rather grumpy dutch lady ran over my foot with her 6 tonne suitcase and pretended it never happened. Or it was my fault. Either way.

They called for our row to board the plane. Deep breath. We can do this. Oh bugger..no turning back now! We gave Chris big these have to last you a week cuddles. Can I say..Emily is bloody heavy! You try carrying over 7 kilo's of wriggliness and a bag so crammed with Ninja distracting tools and you would need a week of physio. Just to test my patience and skill level, we had to board the plane via the tarmac and up the stairs-of-death. Help? Ohno, don't offer I am auditioning for the big top.

It took a near 10 minutes to shuffle to our seats. She cooed at the flight staff, blew raspberries at a nearby nanna and managed to cram half my cardigan into her mouth. All the time I managed to have the air of confidence. There's that word again.

I found my seat. Window seat. I had a seat buddy, who luckily enough was about my age and Emily thought he was the bees knees. He was so helpful and I thrusted Emily's bottle at him when he asked if he could hold anything..chucked a few random toys on my seat then finally remembered to stop holding my breath.

We were in line for take-off, Emily had nestled in for a big feed and I somehow managed to wrangle her into the infant sat belt. There. I had done it. Well, nearly! Still had another 45 minutes up our sleeves for Emily to pull a big tanty for all the elated people in rows 1-19.

We cruised above the clouds and the pilot wittered on about temperatures and altitudes. I couldn't give a monkeys. I was in smug mum heaven, Emily was happily sitting on my knee playing with her snuggly bear. I still couldn't relax until I was back on solid ground. Even in the safety on mum and dad's car..where no one can hear you scream...!

They they were. Mum and Dad. The eager beavers were hovering at the arrival gate, camera at the ready..after a few happy snaps I handed the squirmy one over to them and sat back and let the stress from the last month wash over me.

Its only now that I have stopped for more than a few seconds that I have realised how exhausted I really was. I am by no means suffering from post-natal depression that they bandy about at every Mother's Group, but when they read out a few of the symptoms and you can, indeed tick a box for a few of them. Its time to call in reinforcements. I am exhausted, have run out of steam and thank my lucky stars that my parents were willing enough to buy me a plane ticket and a promise of a week of dinners and some much needed time-out.

Chris has been my rock. He has done everything in his power to make for an easier existence, but in reality I can't magic him back from work when Emily refuses to play the game of sleep/eat/play. I kick myself everyday for not having my full license, for not having more friends close by and wishing I could invent a travel machine so I could have my mum sitting in the kitchen and give me a giant cuddle and make everything better with a cup of tea.

Family are amazing. Mum picked up the vibes that I needed help and knew that I was by no means failing but just needed time to stock up my energy bank. And that I have. As I type, Mum has settled Emily off for a sleep, Dad is firing the bbq up and I have already had a stress free day (that may or may not have included red rooster chippies and a new cardi from cotton on)

I am racking my brains for what I can do different when I head back to Duncombe Towers. But for the time being I am shoving that thought to the very back of my brain..putting it in the to-do later pile.

In the meantime, I have a bottle of vino calling my name and a yummy dinner to share with 2 amazing people:

My Mum & Dad