Dizzy heights

So we have just returned from our first proper trip with friends who also have a baby the same age as R.  I was looking forward to this seaside adventure, and imagined a lie in, followed by gazing out of the window at the rugged coastline with a warm cup of coffee, perhaps a croissant in hand..turns out it was quite difficult to actually see out of the Windows due to them being smeared with a carrot mash combo, and the view was more large white knickers and the bins..

But onwards and upwards, we arrived arrived safely, limbs intact with only a half hour of sweaty vomit inducing meltdown on the A1…and R slept through the whole thing.  Wedged between wine and weaning pouches we made our way, with only an occasional curse directed at the sat nav…

I was a bit anxious that I would be exposed to my cool and collected friend as some sort of a mummy fraudster,incompetently dragging my child through life in ill fitting rompers covered in those  “baby wotzit” crumbs..  It’s fine, crowed my NCT friends, they’re organic.   Pass me the wine..

I was feeling under pressure to complete the nighttime routine in under an hour, or let’s face it there weren’t going to be any Doritos left..even better if he goes no down “drowsy but awake” and dozes off into a calm slumber..little did she know I was actually energetically sling jiggling and then attempting a nion impossible sling to cot transfer..or actually, she did know as I can now be watched on this fancy video monitor that I initially resisted buying but have caved to peer pressure..my technologically advanced friends could not believe I only had a sound monitor (HD sound non the less) kindly gifted by a neighbour and not an all singing all dancing check your babies vital signs every nanosecond contraption.. I think my friend also thinks that slings and breastfeeding is only for hippies…

 

 

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