Ha. I forgot to mention Plunket.

So, after several weeks of no luck with Plunket, I finally got completely peed off, rang Plunket line and asked what I could do if I had a problem with my local Plunket, explained the nature of said problem. Plunket line then conference-called me through to Plunket head office who I went politely (I was! I was very polite!)stonkers at, they sent someone out to our local Plunket to put a bomb under them that afternoon, then the person who runs the local Plunket phoned, apologised a thousand times and assured me that a nurse would make a home visit either Monday or Tuesday.

Bless, the nurse arrived yesterday in the midst of what is perhaps one of Cuinn's worst meltdowns to date as he was bellowing his way up to a hysterical crescendo for no reason other than he apparently just felt like it. Awesome. The nurse then proceeded to attempt to ask me all manner of questions which had to be repeated fifty times before I could actually hear them.

Her "Is there any domestic violence in the household?"
My response "Definitely not" vs my facial expression "There's about to be ..."

Her "Are you suffering any post-natal depression?"
My response "No" vs my facial expression "Do I look cheerful to you??"

I can hear the first phone call she made after leaving our house now ...

"Ah, hello, CYFS? ... "

Bollocks, bollocks and more bollocks.

While she was here, the nurse charted Cuinn's growth in the 75th percentile, which is awesome, so long as you're not the person buying his clothes, and he weighed in at 6.17kg, which explains why, day to day, it feels like my arms are going to fall off.

He slept through the night again last night, which suggests to me that we've got another growth spurt coming - he's been feeding like a demon, sleeping like the devil, and behaving like both put together and on P. Definitely growth spurt atmosphere.