A Cot Full of Snot

There are currently three things that mystify me about my son.

1. How he knows the difference between something yummy and something non-yummy without having tasted it before.

2. How he knows when he's unconscious and snoring in my arms that he's being lowered into his cot and immediately wakes up screaming.

3. How, despite our house now being a mini version of Toys'r'us, he would always rather play with this laptop whilst I'm trying to use it.

I know a lot of people have it a lot worse so I'm sorry to whinge but today I'm pooped and fed up. It seems that his cold has left my previously sleeping and napping son, unwilling to go for a nap in his cot. He's also permanently attached to my side and cries whenever I put him down.

He woke up super early this morning. So early, I thought it was night-time. I stumbled into his room with my eyes shut and lifted him out of his cot in the dark. Have you ever seen that film with the big St Bernard dog, Beethoven, where he shakes his head and slobber coats everything? That's what Chickie did to me, except it wasn't slobber, it was snot.

After sponging us both down, I thought I'd sneak him into bed, which I never ever do but thought I could justify an exception as he was ill and I was so tired. Instead of the touching mother/son cuddlefest you imagine, he just repeatedly slapped me and pulled out big clumps of my hair. Chickie was deposited back into his cot where he cried. I lay in my bed, pillow over head, where I cried.

Good Mummy etiquette dictates that when your child is one big germ, you isolate him and don't attend any events where he will come into contact with nice, healthy children. This meant no Sing and Sign and no afternoon playtime with his friends. This also meant, a day in quarantine with Chickie.

I thought a spot of shopping might cheer me up and would give Chickie an opportunity to sleep. I wrapped him up in what turned out to be far too many layers as I later realised he was a bright shade of crimson and there was condensation forming on the plastic raincover on his pram. Poor little chap. Shopping made me even more miserable as I really don't have a clue how to dress now I have five bellies instead of one. Chick didn't sleep either.

Today will go down as the one when I did everything wrong - brought him into bed, cuddled him to sleep and gave him pudding for tea as he wouldn't eat anything else. I used to judge mothers before I was one myself thinking that I would never do things for an easy life. I'd like to issue a public apology and say that until you're a mum yourself trying to cope with a non-stop screaming baby, you may just make a few mistakes along the way in your attempt to get through the day!