Balls

It suddenly struck me today that the Australian Open tennis started at the weekend, and I have not even paid it a solitary thought, much less settled down to watch any of it. Funny how a baby in the house throws all your routines out of the window and leads you to forget what bloody day of the week it is, let alone giving you a chance to remember regular events that you normally follow on an annual basis.
I have no idea if that last sentence makes sense, because something else that happens when you have a baby in the house is that you often have nights with so little sleep that English stops being your native language and becomes more like a collection of random words that you throw together and hope someone else can decipher.
The night just passed being a case in point. Rian, bless him, for some reason, decided that the hours of 2.35 - 4.47am should be designated "I am going to test my little voicebox to the absolute limits of its abilities, and test the patience and love of both my parents at the same time" time. He didn't want feeding, he didn't need to burp, he didn't want to lay down, he didn't want to be cuddled, he didn't want to be left alone; he just wanted to cry and scream and generally abuse the eardrums of any adults in the immediate vicinity. We started to get quite worried at one point, but when I left the house this morning, he was fast asleep, and looking about as healthy and content as a small, pink, two-month-old blob of flesh can possibly look. So, we're guessing it's just one of those things. We may never know what was going on, or what caused it, or how to stop it happening again, because obviously we don't know what - if anything - was hurting or causing him distress. (He's an absolute darling, but he doesn't make much of an effort by way of communicating with us.) Philippa is keeping a close eye on him today, which I take to mean 'sleeping beside him' rather than watching him constantly, because she was so knackered this morning that her eyelids looked heavier than a Dallas Cowboys Offensive Lineman. I mean, I'm knackered too, but we can't both be off work or we'll soon run out of money to buy nappies and baby wipes, and the oceans aren't going to clog themselves up with unbiodegradable products, we need to give them a bit of a helping hand, so here I am, sat in the office and wishing I could be hooked up intravenously to a caffeine drip.

RC 17-1-23