I can haz some sleepz? No LOLZ.

I'm going to start off though by admitting, to myself as much as anything, that GAH! I've become that Mum who has nothing to talk about except her kid. How utterly depressing - except for the enormous YAY! of course that I have the kid that means that I have nothing else to talk about except for him because that's awesome. But really, I do need to do something about it. I need a hobby. Or something. I'd learn to knit, except Grannie does that already and it'd just be rude to do her out of a job. Heh. Shopping isn't a spectacularly good idea due to the whole complete lack of money thing. Poop. And I hate gardening so I'm not doing that. Maybe I should collect stuff? Bake ware or something. I love to bake and it's cheaper than handbags (although I have my eye on this awesome bag at ... oops). Or ... Pass. I love to blog, except I'm getting boring, and because I know I'm getting boring I'm losing my mojo - hence the posting regularity of late. Meh, I'm sure there's something completely perfect that'll keep my mind from shrinking to shrunk completely, it's just putting my finger on it. We'll talk about this more at a later date.

Anyway. There is a slightly more pressing issue. Sleep. Or, more particularly, the lack thereof. Which actually, when you think about it, probably isn't helping the restlessness created by the above. And it's important to note that I'm less looking for a solution (the kid is firmly in control with this one. More particularly, the kid's stomach is), and more whinging just cos I can.

We were making steady, delicious progress on the regularity of night waking and day feeding (awesome - the husband just pointed a rather stinky kid butt at me, and all he got for his troubles was an encouraging smile from me (which was not at all what he was after), because Cuinn hasn't filled his nappy for 2 days and I don't want a bar of whatever he's done now. Bless him, the husband has dutifully headed back in the direction of the change table, although I'm cringing a bit right this second because a "AAARRGGH! DON'T PUT YOUR FEET IN IT!" has just rung out down the hall) regularity front until said steady, delicious progress came undone completely. Cuinn, man-mountain-to-be that he is, decided that yes, yes it was all very well and good for mummy to be getting a little bit of rest and all that, and she likely was feeling quite cheerful about making some progress towards dropping a night feed or two but screw it, he's hungry (and no doubt in about 15 years 3 night feeds is going to translate into a sack of potatoes and 10 loaves of bread every other day too).

Heaven knows how we managed to make the progress we did over the last few weeks when it was undone just like that, but such is life with a baby apparently (I imagine I'll get used to the curve balls and learn to just sit back and accept them when they happen ... oh ... never). I'd started giving Cuinn small amounts of solids at around the 8-9 week mark, but got beaten around the head by Plunket with all manner of dire warnings of whatever in relation to giving solids too early, so I tried to wait it out until the recommended 6 month mark, or at the very least 4 months which is vaguely acceptable apparently (they tell you that with a stern look and a scowl though, so apparently it's only very vaguely acceptable). Buuut, it didn't work out so they can just scowl at me and be done with it next visit. The kid was down to feeds every hour at some points during the day, and every couple of hours at night, and when I finally decided to ignore Plunket and re-presented his nibs with solids, he was literally launching himself onto the spoonsful of apple at lunch time and now, in only about 2 weeks, he's reaching up and shoving my hand holding the spoon towards his gob (of course, as excellent as that is, on the flip side, he's also discovered it's funny to try and blow bubbles while he has a mouthful of apple, but that's another tale of chaos altogether. And, admittedly, it's a lot messier when he spits baby rice).

We have maintained a level of progress I guess on the night feed front so it's not all terribleness of the highest order - really we took 2 steps forward and 1 step backwards, so we're still better off overall, but it's still a bit ... ye gads ish. We went from 1 night feed ramping up to 4 (yes, it was terribly pleasant), back down to 1, then reverting to 2-3 again. I think it'd be easier if there was a pattern to it (I think) but there really isn't - one minute I think we're making wicked progress, and then wham. Progress go bye bye. And, it's not just that I get excited over one night of dropping a feed - he was actually shifting his feeds by about half an hour a night over a period of time. His 10pm feed went to 10.30pm, then 11pm, then 12, then 12.30 and so on pushing out his 4-5am feed altogether to wake up time and his 2am ish feed became 2.30am, then 3am and so on and so forth more or less until he just had the one feed at about 1am ish with his wake up at 6am ish, like in the early days. But then, of course, wham, as I said. Bollocks.

I think the trick is to just give up feeling gutted about the whole thing, and go with the flow. And get a hobby as above to assist with the fact that I'm the most non go with the flow type on the planet of course. Could be interesting.

And now, I'm going to post this without proofing it because I'm amazed I got this far and if I spend the time proofing the whinge, it'll be another week before you see confirmation that I am in fact alive and kicking.