Week 1: Friday

It has taken more than an hour to get back from the hospital. This is partly because Mummy kept barking at Daddy to DRIVE CAREFULLY, and partly because Mummy suddenly remembered she hadn’t really eaten anything since Wednesday and was STARVING, and made Daddy pull over and buy two family sized bags of Fruit Pastilles, which she ate all of on the way home (not recommended.)

Even though Mummy and The Baby were only in the hospital for a little bit of today, probably because of NHS funding cuts rather than their excellent state of health and competency, Mummy’s parents had already visited. Grandma, as she now is, was possibly more excited than even Mummy about The Baby being born, and Grandad almost certainly had to use physical restraints to stop her coming the night before, while Mummy was still being stitched up and the nurses were mopping the ceiling. But they brought presents and pretended not to notice the ears, so it was all good.

Now that everybody is home, Mummy is surprised to find that nothing has changed. Obviously it would be most concerning if anything HAD changed, as this would suggest breaking and entering, but it seems very strange that such a monumentally life-altering event such as having a baby can occur, and everything at home is precisely as everyday and ordinary as you left it. Oh wait, not exactly the same. There is evidence that Daddy had a kebab last night, but Mummy is too in love with the new baby to even give him the lecture about dripping mayonnaise on the sofa, which must be a lot for this is one of Mummy’s very favourite lectures.

The Baby is alternately sleeping and eating, and sometimes even eating while sleeping, which seems an excellent lifestyle choice and also suggests there is little need for a paternity test.

Daddy has proven himself to be The Best Husband in the World by secretly going to the supermarket and buying Mummy all of the lovely things she has not been able to eat for nine months like French cheese, paté and also lots of wine. It turns out Daddy needn’t have bought more than a thimbleful of wine as it goes straight to Mummy’s head and she has to stop drinking it after two sips.

By the evening, mummy has cried approximately twenty seven times for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Daddy is very confused because Mummy doesn’t usually cry, even at sad films (except for The Fault in Our Stars which is a cruel film that should come with a public health warning and free tissues). In fact, Daddy has in the past accused Mummy of being an Ice Queen because she doesn’t cry at Homeward Bound when Shadow comes over the hill. Daddy is therefore eyeing Mummy with a mixture of concern and bewilderment while she bawls, “I’m honestly not sad, I just love her so much!” through mouthfuls of Brie.

As the evening goes on, Mummy begins to think perhaps the hospital shouldn’t have let her out so easily. It is gradually dawning on Mummy that she is grossly unqualified for the role of Mummy and should perhaps have at least been made to sit a short exam before being entrusted with such responsibility. Trial and error have so far led to some dubious conclusions, all of which reinforce Mummy’s suspicions about The Baby’s rebellious nature…

Things that keep the baby awake: lullabies, rocking, whispering.
Things that send the baby to sleep: heavy metal, dancing to heavy metal, being swung through the air, loud noises.

This seems to go directly against all of the advice the NCT lady imparted unto Mummy and, as such, Mummy suspects that her approach may be somewhat lacking, but is too tired to care. It is going to be a long night…

 

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