The Wifeliest of duties

The Brig has a headache. He is in bed with his eye mask, ear plugs and a life time supply of paracetamol. He's wrecked; not surprising when he's been such a trooper - yesterday, he got up with Beautiful Girl at 10am and kept her entertained until I got up at shock horror, 1pm. He then got up with her twice last night, once just after he came up to bed and again an hour or so later. I think it's pre-emptive sleep storing as I've warned him that if BG is going to be weaned onto bottles before the end of the month, he's going to have to bite the bullet and get up to her more than once in the night to give her a feed.

And so I need to be sympathetic, afterall, didn't he give me a lovely break yesterday morning when all that was wrong with me was a tummy bug and cold. So the Wifely sympathy gene must be kicked into high drive and the tenderest of mercies must be applied.

Well see how long it lasts...

Why brain, why?

I have my best ideas in bed, when I'm just about to fall asleep, and I can never remember them in the morning. It is most irritating.

Bedtime

When I lived alone, I could very happily sleep all night on exactly one half of my double bed, and not so much as ruffle the sheets on the other side.  The General can somehow unmake an entire bed, all by himself, in the half hour between him going to bed and me trying to get in beside him.  Frustrating. 

Never wake a sleeping baby

Unless she's mysteriously snoozey at 10pm and her usual bedtime of midnight means neither you nor she will wake for about 10  hours.  She may well be proof that early to bed means early to rise, although that sort of behaviour will be explained only by a rogue gene mutation.

Well, at least being up at 4am gave me the impetus to finally start a blog - the General has long suggested he feels selfish being the primary recipient of my ravings, and I think he fears Beautiful Girl will be similarly afflicted.  It is lkely to be far worse for her as she is a while away from crawling, let alone politely backing away with a nervous smile.  I'm not sure how good I'm going to be at this blogging thing, but for the next few months (I'm probably being optimistic, make that years) it's likely to be one handed, so please bear that in mind when you're judging me.

Messers Fisher and Price

Well, I presume they are gents, since I know FP has been around a long time and we ladyfolk generally aren't given too much credit in the naming departments.  Anyway, I'm having some mixed emotions about these fellows this morning.  My initial delight at their lovely baby chair/rocker thing which Beautiful Girl just adores and had lulled her into a good drowsy state has been tempered by the scary monster noises that are emitted from their homepage.  Said noises caused an impressive screeching session from a very placid and sleepy baby.  Luckily she takes after her Dad and nodded off again rather rapidly.  Phew, another trauma averted by the magic shoulder.