From Brilliant to Shit. 

I’ve had a brilliant day. I’ve taken the boy bear out to a friend’s house, had my favourite meal cooked for me – paella, followed by cheesecake, yum, and had a good old natter. 

I got home, fed the bear, had some fun with my partner, laughing, joking, flirting in the kitchen. 

Fun. Happy. Relaxed. Calm. 

Bear goes to bed, bear is learning to cry it out. Bear is just standing, silently, glancing at the camera, which, with night vision makes him look like something from a horror film. Partner and I watch this, we laugh, we enjoy. 

Context is set – we’ve been having fun all evening, laughing, joking teasing. 

So this is where it turns, and why I hear you ask? Because he turns on his game. 

I go in to tell him something and I clock he’s taken one of my Coke Zeros. I DO NOT BEGRUDGE HIM A COKE ZERO. However  it has been standard for me to mock rage and threaten death, so I lean to get it, take it and mock rage ensues… but my leaning over causes him to die on his game so fuck me… it’s like he literally died in real life. 
I put the can down and he kicks it off the couch saying I can have it, I explain the joke, he doesn’t want to get it. 

So I lose it.

I smack the wall with my hand. 

The baby begins to cry. 

Fuck you life partner. 

Why does this game change your whole personality? How am I supposed to know when to stop joking? Stop having fun with my best friend? 

Fuck you. You’re a dick when that game is on. Fuck you and now I’ll daydream that that fucking game console somehow trips and falls right out of the god damn window. 

Now my hand hurts, my heart hurts and we’re not speaking. From brilliant to shit in 2 seconds flat. I should write a fucking book. 

Angry mum out. 

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Night-time Terrors

I used to love co-sleeping with my son, we do it very safely and not often. 

As a result I barely EVER sleep when it happens. 

Why? 

  1. I’m scared I’ll suffocate him.
  2. My partner has a history of sleep elbowing me in the face – so I have to protect the child from the sleep elbow.
  3. The child is 7 months old now and he kicks like a fucking mule. I might have known; he was kicking very early in the womb. Hard. 
  4. My place in the bed is on the verge, the edge and I’m always scared I’ll fall off into the abyss i.e. the floor. 

These reasons alone ensure I more often than not, want some ‘me’ sleep time and push for the bear to be in his cot. 

When this feeling is strong, my partner seems to hone in on it and becomes the most neediest father that ever lived. 

I need to cuddle my son.”

“I barely spend time with him.”

And co-sleeping happens.

For an hour. And then the bear kicks like a mule/the partner wants to move/is too hot/is too cold/has baby sweat on him/I’m taking up too much room/wants to go to sleep, a deep sleep and then I’m left with the responsibility of the baby. 

Thank you. You fucker. 

I put him back in his cot, he cries blue murder as he’s already been disturbed three times, he loves sleeping with us or he takes after his dad and is just a douche. Not really he’s awesome. Fact. 

So my partner gets the lovely falling asleep, look at his face, oh he’s snoring moment and I get the rest. This is my life, well, my nightimes. 

I feel if you want to co-sleep then you have the responsibility ALL night long because I need my fucking sleep because I’m fucking knackered from all this co-sleeping, hacking cough and feeling ill shit while you’re also pestering me for a blowjob in the middle of the night! So let me sleep, goddamn it!!!

Sooooo… we had a chat. And last night I only had responsibility for the bear from about 5am. And that dear people is a win, in my life anyway.