Our first brush with lurgies

I was bracing myself for the first round of childhood diseases but wasn’t expecting them quite so soon! Leo is now just seven months old and we have recently recovered from the apparently very common childhood disease hand, foot and mouth disease. So common in fact, that not one single person I have discussed this with has ever frigging heard of it?! What everyone has heard of, of course, is foot and mouth – that horrific disease where poor farmers had to heap up hundreds of heads of livestock and set fire to them, to prevent them from becoming ill….. not sure I follow the logic, but then I’m not a farmer and I believe them largely to be good people so I’ll leave that one there. Anyhoo – so Leo didn’t start mooing, but he did develop a nasty cough (which I put down to teething), he went off his food completely (which I put down to teething), he stopped sleeping through the night (which I put down to teething) and was generally grizzly (which I put down to teething). You see, unfortunately, teething is a bit of a “catch all” for babies and it is easy to become apathetic even for the most hawk eyed Mummies amongst us. After two hard weeks of Leo not sleeping and not eating his Dad noticed spots on the back of both hands. The guilt I felt was quite extraordinary….. I’m not a Mary Poppins type Mummy, I’m terribly impatient and I swear. Frequently. I’ve been incredibly blessed and lucky with Leo in that he has slept through the night since he was about 3 months old – I know, I know, I’m very lucky. So two weeks of no sleep was a hell of a shock and I stumbled in to his room every 1-2 hours to try and comfort him and correct whatever was preventing him from sleeping, to no avail, which ended with me slumped over the cot at 4am muttering “for fuck’s sake – there’s nothing wrong with you!” (“and the parent of the year award goes to…..”) Hence the guilt – turns out my poor boy had actually been ill all of that time.

But what had he got? Well. That bit pissed me off. It took THREE trips to the GP to finally get this diagnosed. I did my normal nurse Mummy bit and went on to NHS direct website (very, very good) to try and pinpoint the illness. A lot of doctors do the same, they can’t remember everything understandably. So my first trip to our lovely family GP I presented Leo’s spots and declared “I think this is hand, foot and mouth.” (I did the same the day before to a pharmacist – who thought it was chicken pox). My doctor ummed and ahhed and said it was probably chicken pox based on the one chicken pox like spot on his wrist. The other spots were small and red and didn’t appear to be bothering him. I left the surgery unsatisfied and was on the phone at 8am the next morning to get another same day appointment. This time I could dramatically show off the same red marks spreading all over my own hands. Still chicken pox he said – and I also got a rather unreassuringy “so what do you think it is? Hand, foot and mouth?”  I was rather hoping you would tell me?! On my third visit my opening gambit was “are you absolutely sure this is chicken pox?!” luckily I’ve known my GP for 20 years and he’s a very good egg – so I can be blunt with him. I showed off the now quite severe rash on my hands, soles of my feet and the horrid white spots at the back of my very sore throat (no wonder my poor baby was coughing, these really hurt) and he frowned and muttered and walked out of the room…. seconds later he reappeared with another doctor whom I did not know but he looked a decent sort of chap, think his name was Peter? Peter had a good look over my hands and throat and said with the conviction I’d been craving “that is hand, foot and mouth disease” – hurrah! A diagnosis! My reason for being quite such a pain in the arse about the whole thing was wanting to know exactly what Leo had had so in the future I’ll know what he is still susceptible to. I personally think he may also have had chicken pox at the same time, but very mildly hence the one pox like spot on his wrist. Time will tell if I’m right on that one though.

When Leo was 3 days old he very nearly died before my eyes. I won’t go in to too much detail but his blood sugar plummeted and he had rolling seizures. He went in to A&E and we all stayed in HDU and then the children’s ward at Royal Berks in Reading for nearly two weeks. Utterly terrifying in every sense of the word. The reason for mentioning this is I believe that when handing him over to the medical professionals in such a vulnerable state – one has to have utter faith in their ability and complete trust in their judgement. Unfortunately for my GP – this means that I now expect strong, cast iron diagnosis’ with every rash and sniffle that Leo presents – this I know is an impossible ask! What the recent few weeks have cemented in my little brain - rather terrifyingly – is that the buck stops with me. I am solely responsible for this precious little boy and I am the one who will make these monumental decisions for him. It’s an awesome, in the true sense of the word, realisation. Although I do not consider myself a single parent, there are two of us and Daddy is as involved and attentive as he is physically, emotionally and mentally able to be, but I am a single Mum – I am eyes and hands on 24/7 and thus, as previously mentioned, the buck stops with me. Holy fuck.

I’m fast coming to realise that there are no casual decisions to make when it comes to being a parent, one lurches from one agonising decision to another almost holding your breath and hoping a lot of the time. MMR?! What the hell to do?! We were all vaccinated – we’re all fine aren’t we? Daddy made a valid point the other day – if we all had the MMR jabs how come we all had measles? I don’t know the answer – dammit?! I know that I have 5 months until the next lot of jabs are due so I have my reading list cut out for me and after that one just hopes that the best, most informed decision possible is made. There is no denying that without modern medicine we would have lost our little boy at three days old so you won’t find me jumping on the bandwagon and berating the NHS.  That said – there’s also no denying that vast amounts of the reports that are presented to us are corrupt to say the least which makes it harder to ascertain the absolute facts. Case in point being the recent health advise to begin weaning at 4 months – the information in that report kindly funded by the likes of Cow & Gate, quelle surprise! Take a closer look into the government’s 5 a day, don’t eat animal fat type campaigns and you’ll find they are funded by the pharmaceutical company that manufactures the market leading anti cholesterol drug….. how does one find the truth?!

I digress…..

I suspect this parenting lark doesn’t get easier, that the worry stays with you forever – even when they’re big, strong, fully grown bruisers – but I wouldn’t change a thing. Leo is an extraordinary little boy and I would always take a bad day with him over a good day without him.

Hell's Teeth!

Urgh.... teething. Mother Nature cocked up here so far as I'm concerned, why couldn't babies just be born with teeth? They're born with everything else ready to go, it’s a serious design fault, plus they're programmed to grow their teeth just when you're trying to wean them - it’s all too much! While I'm on design flaws, I also think babies should come with a manual and a diagnostics kit. I am extreeemely lucky with Leo, and I know this, in that he has always slept well and cried very little. Other Mummies don't seem to fare as well so I'm careful not to be over verbal about this, one could be ostracized if not careful. I have even occasionally had to “fake” a bad night with Leo because my endless cheeriness seemed to be grating on the less fortunate Mums.

However – not last night – this was the real thing. Leo goes to bed at 7pm, normally without a peep. I hear him sighing and gurgling over the monitor for about ten minutes and then he’s sparko until at least 6am. Which is great – no complaints there. Last night he went to bed, happily and without protest only to wake me up at cocking midnight?!! Midnight?? Why little boy?! He hasn’t fed during the night for about 2 months so he’s not hungry, could be teeth but he doesn’t have rosy cheeks, could be a code brown on the nappy front (it was at it happens, always a joy but especially during the night – nothing like the business end of a pooey nappy to snap you out of your slumber) basically could be a number of things – hence my request for a diagnostics kit. You have to painstakingly go through a mental check list of what could be vexing your baby… and often you can get through it having ticked off all possibilities – and he/she is still eggy. It is then you start to realise that they are little people and one can’t always pin the grumpiness down to one particular thing. Even his Dad said on the phone this morning “sometimes I don’t sleep well” - so simple – men have a gift for stripping things down to the basics; us birds do tend to over complicate matters sometimes.

At 2am I ended up with Leo in my bed, cuddling him seemed to shut him up so cuddle I did. He went to sleep and I was left in that semi sleep zone where your inner voice waits until you’re just niiiicely dropping off then shouts “DON’T CRUSH THE BABY!!!”  And snaps you back fully awake… I believe I got about three hours sleep. The idea of having your baby in bed with you is lovely isn’t it? snuggled up, listening to them breathing and snuffling, the smell of their hair….. aaahhhh. Its not at all actually – babies are bed hogs; they kick, scratch, slap, blow raspberries, fart and generally are not sweet in the slightest. Colour me grumpy.

All that said – I’m eternally grateful for my 99% of the time chilled out easy baby. And thank God he is – I have zero patience as it is, the poor Mum’s that have nights like that every night and still manage to function have my deepest respect.

Lucky for me sarcasm is currently lost on Leo. By 9.15am this morning he was of course rubbing his tiny eyes and grumbling…. I couldn’t help but launch in to a full scale Basil Fawlty-esque rant……”Ooooohhh I am sorry, are you tired?? Did my king size bed not provide you with every comfort last night? Perhaps you’d like me to sleep on the floor tonight and you can have the whole f**king bed?!!” etc etc. Then the little sod smiled at me and I couldn’t be cross, I keep telling him the “cute”
 thing will only get him out of trouble so many times. I guess he’s got a few more in the bank yet though.

Here’s to a normal nights sleep tonight J

Weaning can be tricky then!

We are now in week 5 of weaning..... am I so naive? I thought this bit would be easy! Having spent 20 years cooking for a living I was really looking forward to feeding Leo - creating lovely, simple recipes for him and watch him excitedly tuck in to all the goodies I produced. But alas no. We started off very well, baby rice went down ok, all fruit purees were well received and even all of his veggies seemed to be enjoyed. So I expanded my repertoire; I have now got a freezer stuffed with ice cube sized beef casserole, southern chicken, turkey and saffron casserole, lamb and lentils, bolognaise.... I could go on but I'd just be showing off. I proudly placed the first savoury bowl in front of my tiny critic and full of trust and excitement - he readily opened his gummy little mouth for the first spoonful! To say he wasn't impressed would be a giant understatement, he made a "yuk" face, clamped his mouth shut, gave me a look that seemed to say "urgh, Mummy that went in my mouth!" soooo not a beef fan yet then. But I am surely cleverer than my 6 month old son aren't I? So I made my best aeroplane noises, I swooped spoons and made all the "yummy" high pitched squeals one should in this situation. In fairness he thought it was funny, he laughed and swiped - mouth wide open - but the very second the spoon touched his mouth - snap - it was firmly closed again. Little bugger.

I am ashamed to confess I lost my sense of humour after several mealtimes of negotiating, performing, bribing etc.... I got to the stage of "oh for f*ck's sake LEO!" Notably at the point where he launched a full bowl of banana and blueberries at me and the sofa. As it dripped from my left eye lash I knew I was losing this battle and needed to regroup and restrategise - which may or may not be a word. Enter Emma - fellow Mummy and all round good hearty sort. She sent me a message advising to alternate spoonfuls of savoury/new meals with one of something he will definitely eat. The theory being that babies are not so clever after all and if they think smooth fruit puree is coming they will open wide and eat - and as it turns out - this only bloody works! Leo will now eat a whole bowl of casserole etc so long as every 3rd or 4th spoon is fruit or yoghurt, and only a half spoon at that.

Happy Leo, happy Mummy, clean plates, full nappies :-)

Now that seems to be in hand I'm planning stage two - to introduce baby led weaning along side normal feeding. I think Leo will enjoy this and I want him to be able to explore food and tastes in his own time.
Apparently this is even messier than normal weaning - luckily I have a Labrador and a washing machine and have just ordered plastic bibs and table mat. I have downloaded a list of finger foods appropriate for his age and intend to start gently with some cooked carrot sticks this afternoon...... I'll let you know how it goes!

Sx

How it all began

Once upon a time, and for 20 years, I poured beer for a living. And now I'm a parent.

Blimey.

Leo, Harvey the labrador and I are lucky enough to live in Henley on the beautiful Thames. Although I have lived in Henley for 20 years - I am now seeing a different side of the town - less Pouilly Fussee and more Pooey Nappy. Its quite a shift. Once I knew all of the bars and their landlords - indeed I was one of them - now I go to coffee mornings held by the Church, I drink small cups of tea (on saucers) and the lovely old ladies offer Fox's biscuits on china plates. I have long conversations about the virtues of reuseable nappies versus disposables, I rant passionately about the availability of changing facilities in public bathrooms - I watch Gok pour tubby ladies into unsightly fat pants and think "Oooo they're good....". And so occasionally its all rather a shock, and I'm left scratching my head wondering how we got here!