Fast forward to January 2004. I am now pregnant and waiting for the birth of our daughter. I say this not because of any confirmation of this fact at my previous scan, but because a woman I have never met before who is claiming to have special powers in this area has assured me that it will be a girl. She knows this from spinning me round quickly (well as quickly as a nearly nine months pregnant woman can be spun around), and on studying my rear for a moment or two tells me quite definitely that its girls' names I need to be thinking about, and forget the boys'. She is clearly a bit mad, but then again she might be right? I settle on Daisy or Molly.
On 10th January my son is born.
It is a bit of a shock really - the sex of the baby, not the birth.
I ask the midwife, "Are you sure?""
"Absolutely", she replies.
I ask the Artist to check.
"Definitely", he agrees with a very proud look.
So that's that. The witch got it wrong. Perhaps if she'd looked at my front rather than my back she might have got it right.
Son number two is gorgeous and sweet, and son number one adores him. Apart from at night when we all hate him. That may sound extreme but it is a fact. The Angel baby by day becomes a Devil baby by night. There is just no reasoning with him and the frustration of
a) not enough sleep for me to be a rational, loving mother
b) a baby who is not hungry, not wet, not ill and definitely not sleepy
c) haunting tales of babies who sleep through the night and have to be woken for breakfast
make me unable to deal with devil night-baby in a patient earth-motherly manner. The worst thing I find is that kindly well-wishers offer such gems as, "I'm sure he'll grow out of it", or "Have you tried ......?"
Yes, trust me, we've tried everything; from controlled crying to stories, songs, tapes of stories and songs, shouting (not guaranteed to improve the situation but sometimes necessary for our sanity) and still nothing works. The funny thing is, he did grow out of it, so to all you sleep-deprived, guilt-ridden, frustrated parents, hang on in there, because generally these things do have a way of sorting themselves out. By all means try everything, because not is worse. But remember that babies, like most adults, do not like to be told what to do. Encouragement reaps the best results. You will see that I am right. Perhaps not now, but read these words in twenty years time and you'll see the funny side. Sleep deprivation is bad for most things but good for blurring the memory.
The Angel-Baby is now four - time really does fly!
1 comment:
I remember how he beamed at everyone all day, but you kept telling me he was the spawn of the horned fellow !
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