Yesterday I discovered that there is only one thing worse than being a bit unwell and stuck in the house with a little baby. When your husband is also ill and has to take to his bed. Because you want to kill him. I wish I was one of those earth mother types who felt the need to take care of him (I did check up on him a couple of times, but three times he was asleep. The other time I got him a hot chocolate and a ribena). Why are men always SO much more ill than women? I couldn't take to bed, I had a baby to feed and take care of, not to mention the school run. Anyway, I starved (apart from dry toast and a baked potato) and went to bed at 9pm and feel much better. And M has gone to work today so he is feeling better too.
Went away for the night on Saturday for my friend's 40th to a cottage in Settle. It was nice, but I forgot the pump part of the breast pump so had started with mastitis on Sunday morning - dizzy and detached - and had to (carefully) drive home. Typical to make sure everything is organised and sorted and then forget something so intrinsic. Drank too much wine, so having a dry week this week, nothing until Friday.
Ted is still a complete joy, so happy and cheerful, really makes my day. A is also a sweetheart, we had his school birthday party on Friday, six little boys at a soft play centre, which was really nice. I am so lucky with my darling boys, and I am very content (apart from yesterday)