The highs and lows of Tuesday
Chop’s first settling in session at nursery was between 9-11 on Tuesday morning. I was excited for him to make new friends, learn new things and have lots of wonderful new experiences but knew I’d miss him terribly. What would I do for two hours? The potential was for me to sit and cry, no thanks, I did not want to be that person. Determined not to cry in front of anyone, I left.
The drop off
Obviously that morning he decided to throw the minor resemblance of a routine out of the window. This resulted in him waking up from his morning nap at 8.5o, an hour later than normal. How I dressed, fed him and arrived on time with everything I needed I’ll never know!
Dropping him off went far better than expected. The look on his face was more one of freedom than longing. I asked no relevant questions at all, which was less than helpful. All I managed to mention was that he had 7 teeth as he gleefully tucked into a pine cone and that he was a bit gassy. She didn’t really give a shit how many teeth he had to be fair. I think it was just fresh in my mind from the dentist on Monday. I was assured that the girls were all used to the odd baby trump (or little Donald’s as nanny calls them).
The ‘alone time’
I came home, showered in complete peace and quite, total solace. Showering took all of twenty minutes, not the two hours I had envisioned. Legs went unshaven again though and after baby snuggled up to mummy’s furry leg like it was a fleece I should have taken the hint. I disappointed myself with the lack of tears. I was expecting to burst through the door in tears and dramatically throw myself on the bed or lean back on a closed door and slide down slowly while wailing into my hands.
The pick up
When I collected him I did two circles around the block because I was too early. I didn’t want to look like an over eager parent, instead I looked like a criminal casing my latest job. It had gone with out a glitch. According to his key worker little Chops did really well for his first day. This would bite me in the ass the following day when he would scream blue murder ‘MAMAMAMAMAMAM’ at the top of his lungs while reaching out towards me like some channel five afternoon movie. Then I really did cry. The only thing she mentioned was that he was exceptionally windy, what’s with that this week – must be to do with his teeth I thought.
The play date
Home for a nap, lunch and out again for a soft play date. I wasn’t sure how the playing would go, I expected him to be a bit worn out from the morning but he was fine. Throwing himself about, poking other babies, climbing head first into the ball pool only to stand at the side unable to climb back out. Why do all babies like to sit at the bottom of the slide? Any way it went fine, until we were leaving.
Hugo fell backwards into a table leg smacking the back of his head on the metal post. His head all but changed shape. A soft and squishy egg exited his head, I felt sick. I was convinced a bit of his brain had popped through his skull but after a cold compress and a brief nap on the way home it had virtually disappeared. I’m glad I didn’t have a blood pressure check on Tuesday because I’m fairly sure I’d have been hospitalised.
When we got home all trauma and drama fizzled out and order was restored. He ate his tea, giggled, watched some Cbeebies while my blood pressure stabilised and we waited for daddy. I decided that a bit of nappy off time might help the increasingly angry nappy rash that seemed to be accompanying this wind. A lovely naked bum bouncing about the front room greeted daddy. It always makes daddy nervous when our baby is doing anything on the cream carpet that involves food or no nappy. I’ve had more of a laid back attitude to it, after all he’s never actually done anything on the carpet. Until Tuesday.
‘What’s that on his foot?’ I asked, thinking it would perhaps be fluff from his trousers.
‘It’s a poo nugget’ replied daddy, less than impressed that he’d been in the house all of five minutes and had poo on his hands.
I’ll be honest I did think it was just a bit of residual that had perhaps been missed. I know, mother of the year award. I’d been rather stressed the last few hours and no ones perfect, right? While my brain worked over time wondering how I’d missed it, an almighty sound came out of Chop’s red little bot. It was not alone. With this ‘little’ Donald came a tirade of chicken and apricot with lentils dinner meal. A wonderfully deep orange hue made its impression on the pale cream carpet (something we’d been so pleased about when the reflux was rife, because the sick just blended in). As Daddy went for the legs, I went for the bottom to block it in. Needless to say while we both scrambled about covered in shit looking for the wipes, Hugo laughed his head off.