In my last post I suggested that there might be a request for sympathy during the weeks of returning to work and Monty starting nursery. Certainly it felt a bit odd abandoning him into the arms of his friendly nursery ladies and heading off to work for the day, but emotionally I’d say all three of us, Mr H included transitioned well. Actually all four of us as Finn the dog also had to get used to three days of less human time again.
The routine works well in principle, Mr H gets up early and heads into the big smoke (we love mornings when his alarm goes off and we realise we’ve had a whole night of sleep without baby or fur baby interrupting us – not had one of those for a while!!). Monty and I transform from bed head night grub status to mildly clean, clothed and awake. We trot round the corner to his nursery and then I undertake a golden hour of exercise before work starts – run, swim or gym. Then a quick makeover into professional person and at my desk for 8.45. At lunchtime I nip home to rouse a sleeping Finn the dog for a jaunt in the park, back to work for the afternoon and then pick Monty up on my way home to play, cuddle and wait for the return of the daddy who undertakes bath and bed. Clockwork!
Unless we are ill. Which we have been about 95% of the time! Damn nursery bugs. Sickness bugs, although YES 2kg lighter with minimal effort but fair amount of hardship. Not advised. Roseola, a constant cold, tonsillitis. Ugh! It will get better all the blogs and mumsnetters tell me! We will start school with no more than a sniffle as all the bugs will shy away from super strong immunity created by these months of hardship. The problem is with illness comes sleep deprivation. Our normally smug position of having the most amenable sleeping and relaxed baby is uprooted and we are thrown sideways into chaos of night waking and minimal shut eye. So we don’t get better very quickly. Mild depressive symptoms arise. There are tears. It hurts. Sympathy please!