I read the story of the new mom who seemed so happy with her perfect family life. And then one day, she dropped off her 4 and a half month old daughter at daycare, drove to a secluded area and killed herself. Allison Goldstein wrote a goodbye letter apologising for the pain she could no longer bear from what everyone refers to as her silent battle with postpartum depression.

When I read about Allison, it broke my heart. I cannot imagine what she must have gone through to have to end her life for the pain to go away.

Perhaps I am just well read on postpartum depression but I know how common it is and that all you need to do is ask for help - if you are in the right frame of mind to do so. With a sudden influx of abnormal hormones making you question your own feelings, it's also so important to have support. From the time that The Husband noticed the toll that motherhood took on me, he has kept telling me about the resources available if I felt that I couldn't talk to him.

The silent part of Allison's suffering is so descriptive of all the negative parts of motherhood. Nothing could have prepared me for just how drastically life changed with a newborn. The raging storm of hormones is actually what causes PPD and luckily I didn't have that problem. But I did have feelings of being overwhelmed, feeling worthless and wishing I hadn't taken this step into motherhood. The biggest problem was actually talking about it and realising that no one else feels or has felt that way. And when I encountered that, it was so easy to feel withdrawn and rather tell everyone that everything is ok when they asked.


People want that mother who talks about how her child is a blessing from God. The mother that hides the bags under her eyes with her makeup and makes motherhood seem like a breeze. They don't want me - the mother who steps out of the house without having a shower with tell-tale breastmilk stains on her shirt and talks about how she can't get her baby to stop crying.

And so I write about it hoping someone else who feels this way knows that it's normal. Our version of normal anyway. I was exhausted when Squeak was born. I still am. I don't understand the bundle-of-joy type happiness that people say it is. It's a job - a tiring job that I have to do. I'm convinced mothers lie to themselves about how happy they are. It's a coping mechanism. 

And if you are like me, it's ok. There's no joy in motherhood. Caring for a baby around the clock is exhausting. Sleep deprivation makes me a miserable person. The truth is I hate motherhood. People say it will get better and it has but it doesn't make the tough times easy when you're in it.

Then there is the guilt. Oh the guilt of saying out loud that I hate motherhood.

Not every mother fits that perfect mould we expect her to be in. There are mothers out there fighting their own silent battles. Let's make it easier for them. Let's talk about how bad it is. Let's ask her how she is really feeling. Let's talk about professional help if she needs it. Let's not put mothers in a position where her only option is to take her life.                                                              

Even before I became a mom, I thought that dads were shortchanged when it comes to paternity leave. The Husband's company policy is a generous 3 days; all of which come from his standard annual leave allowance.

The Husband took 2 weeks off from work and the day before he went back to work, I cried wondering how I'd survive alone with Squeak.

By now, you know that I suck at motherhood but it was about a lot more than caring alone for Squeak.

We fight for gender equality every day and every day we keep losing because of our social structures. Parental policies at government and corporate levels say that a woman's place is still to be at home to take care of the children and that a man does not have this responsibility.

But the truth is that child rearing is every bit a dad's desire as it is the mom's. The Husband was more excited than I was when we got news of OUR surprise pregnancy. He was involved throughout the health of OUR pregnancy from gynae visits to emergency hospital stays. He prepared for OUR baby's arrival by maxing out credit cards on baby items that we both researched and decided on. But when OUR baby was born, paternity leave policies dictated that time for dad to bond with the baby was not important. It was mom only that got time off from work to care for the newborn.

Bonding with a newborn is hard for dad. The baby only wants mom. Even though Squeak wasn't interested in anything but boobs, The Husband wanted to bond with him. And there are so many ways he did that and much more that he could have done if he was home for longer. I take on the majority of child rearing duties because he doesn't have the time to get involved enough to be as good at those tasks as I am.

Here are some of the reasons paternity leave is so important:
1. Childbirth is freakin hard man. The Husband took care of me. He changed diapers when I couldn't get out of my hospital bed, bathed Squeak when I couldn't bend from c-section recovery, and made sure I was fed when I was so busy with a baby that wanted to be with me all the time. 

2. I was so sleep deprived in the first few weeks. The Husband also woke up with every scream for a night feed but he went back to sleep easily while I stayed up to breastfeed. We didn't realise just how much this took a toll on him until he started struggling to stay awake for the first few weeks when he was back at work. So he also needed more time to adjust to life with a newborn.

3. Even science thinks dads should have enough paternity leave. Studies have shown that having dads around boosts moms levels of prolactin and oxytocin hormones which stimulates the production of breast milk and letdown. Sharing the tough days with a partner also keeps mommy depression at bay and there are so many benefits for the little ones too like increased vocabulary.

Not providing paternity leave sends the message that it isn't important for men to bond with their kids and that women become the default person for child rearing responsibilities and to take time off work delaying the progression of their careers. Equal parental leave is essential in promoting gender equality. Giving dads time off can help women earn more money in the long term and maintain their careers.

I think parental leave should be equally distributed across both genders. There are questions about how we can afford such a benefit. A quick uneducated perspective is to look at how income tax is being spent so that our corruption budget can be assigned for parental leave through, say, UIF. The private sector could get rewarded for promoting this in the same way that corporates get incentives for improving the country's BEE stats. And before anyone points out that having babies is not the government's problem; oh yes it is. More people of employable age equates to a larger workforce which is what drives our economy. Today's babies will dictate the next generation's economy.

I'd love to know what your thoughts are. Do you think paternity leave is important? How much time should dad be allowed to take? And who should carry the cost? 

Yes I'm thinking about how St Peter, consulting his iPad, might ask about this title whilst hoards of other souls (who have never publicly stated the obvious) walk through the pearly gates; no questions asked.

I'm jumping ahead of myself. Here's why I was so angry with God last night.

Despite my atheist ways, I actually do believe in the existence of God or that God existed at some point. The science even backs it up. The chances that the perfect collection of atoms came together to form earth and life as we know it with perfect precision is slim. Take breastfeeding, for example. It's the perfect food to sustain a baby and so complex that no laboratory has successfully artificially imitated it as yet.

Which brings me to the offspring who was gnawing at my nipples for half an hour straight. Not to feed, no. It was too help with the gas troubles he had. All while The Husband dozed off peacefully unaware.

Unaware that The Big Guy created women to bear the brunt of parenting. We carry the foetus until it's born because we were gifted with a uterus, a vagina that was meant to have life torn through it and breasts from which our lives are sucked out of. And then just for fun, the bastard (oh sorry, Bastard - let's maintain a little respect here, shall we) gave men nipples.

This epiphany came in just before the start of Shravan where I am paying obeisance to the following Gods:

• There's Shiva who was actually the world's saviour. He drank a poison that was going to end the world. I figure he could have let the world end. Maybe another God could take another go at it and not decree that women be stoned to death every time one of them breathes the way some of our major religions like it. Also, we pray to guy's penis as a symbol of him. How much more patriarchal can you get?
• The Parvati kinda of patriarchal. This Goddess was created for Shiva. But because she was dark in complexion, Shiva didn't want her. Instead of showing my dark skinned sisters a role model of self respect, she persevered in lusting after him.
• Krishna is my favorite God because he is oh so playful. But he married eight queens  and my people were up in arms when a playful Bollywood song about his main wife being sexy was released. Yes, the God can be a playboy and the Goddess can be nothing but subservient to him.

So no, patriarchal legion of Gods, you don't get my vegetarian fast as a worship to you when you designed women to physically suffer through life while men get off scot-free. And the reward for our suffering? Subservience to men.

Breast is not best. It's the biological norm. I don't know what happened but at some point, we had to tell people that breast milk was the best food for babies. For me, it goes without saying, after all isn't that what breast milk was designed for?

All animals are created to have the ability to feed their young. With humans, it's milk from the bosom until we can provide babies with normal food. And until recently, normal food was whole food that could be cultivated from the earth and not developed in a lab with secret ingredients like infant formula.

So why then is infant formula the new norm?

Breastfeeding women are chastised in public because boobs are now seen as sexual parts instead of their primary function as vessels that transfer sustenance to helpless babies.

Countless women keep asking me whether I have enough milk. I'm left wondering why I wouldn't have enough milk. Isn't that what my body was designed to do. Sort of like how my body was designed to grow a baby in my uterus.  I did that just fine without having to resort to growing him in a man-made alternative.

Some have asked when I will start supplementing with formula. My response  is when I can no longer feed him from my breasts. I can't understand why someone with no breastfeeding problems will want to limit natural and nutritious mother's milk.

And how shocked was I to hear how many women didn't breastfeed because they didn't have enough milk. I cannot believe that we have not had enough support to teach women about breastfeeding and why they probably did have enough milk and just didn't know it. It's natural. I mean how many other animals say they aren't producing enough milk for their young? None?

Biologically, only a minute amount of women truly cannot breastfeed (experts generously estimate about 5%). So if the majority of us can breastfeed then why did formula become so widespread?

I did a bit of research and found out that it started with developing emergency food for babies who could not get breast milk which then developed into Capitalist greed. Here's a horrifying article on how Nestlé convinced the third world that formula was better and, in the process of taking money from the world's most downtrodden, were the cause of millions of infant death. That could have been avoided if those women hadn't heard of Nestlé and kept on breastfeeding.

Present culture now dictates that mothers should no longer at their babies becks and calls. So it becomes easier to choose formula when mothers aren't around and have to go to work.

Formula is convenient in a world where a mother can't be with her child all the time. It's a lifesaver for infants who can't receive breast milk. But no, breast is not best. It's normal. It's how our bodies are designed and babies are instinctively geared towards seeking out mom's breasts for nutrition.

The more we start embracing the concept that breast feeding is normal, perhaps the more we will start seeing more women trusting their bodies to be enough for their babies without resorting to artificial nutrition as a first choice.

Last week was breastfeeding week and how better to honour that than by normalising breastfeeding. We can only do this by supporting mothers. Help mothers feed their babies by not telling them they shouldn't do it in public. Learn more about the wonderful science of breastfeeding and the benefits of breast milk. The more we see breastfeeding, the more normal it becomes.

I met up with some moms last week and they asked me how my breastfeeding journey was going. I responded with "It's been so hard." So they said I should tell them all about it. And that's when I hit a blank. What was so hard? I couldn't remember. I tried mentally recounting every breastfeeding moment since Squeak was born and I didn't have any incidents to back up my statement that it was hard. I kept wondering whether I imagined it to be hard. Was I just being dramatic cos everything about motherhood is pretty damn hard? Or did I just forget? 

Since then I realised I couldn't remember things in Squeak's life. Why couldn't I rest on Day 1? What was I so busy with? I keep saying Squeak was a handful but I don't remember Squeak being that difficult. 

I remember struggling to reach and pick up Squeak in the early days but I don't remember that pain. I know my c-section scar made it painful but I can no longer remember or conceptualise that pain. 

In such a short space of time, I had experienced that mythical concept mothers speak of that keeps the human race alive. I am slowly forgetting the bad experiences of motherhood and instead I subconsciously focus on the good. 

It's a good thing for Squeak. He might have a sibling some day when I forget just how difficult caring for a newborn is. I won't forget the actual experiences. It's more forgetting how it felt. 

It also gives me a bit of hope. Maybe one day I'll forget the fights with The Husband, the feeling of helplessness when I had no idea what Squeak needed and what sleep deprivation feels like. 

It's amazing how we're made to forget the bad in order to continue to procreate but it's this same forgetfulness that isolates new parents who have no one that relates to them. And one day, I'll become one of them. 

"Enjoy your baby.  He's only that little once and time will go by so quickly." 

This is by far the best thing people have said to me. I know I should enjoy him. I don't even want him to grow. I just want him to stay cute and little like this forever. But the newborn stage is so difficult and when life is thrown into the mix, it's hard to remember that he just needs me and I'll never get this time back. 

So this is to remind me and other new moms to not sweat the big stuff and appreciate the little things in life. 

I've had days that caused so much frustration. There were times when I hadn't showered, brushed my teeth or combed my hair. I tried to do chores and fix myself lunch with a needy baby in one arm. All these simple tasks that NEEDED to be done. 

But when did I become that person that worried about the mundane things. I've always been about enjoying the moment. So what if you haven't achieved your goals if you're having a blast just living. 

So what if the laundry doesn't get done before The Husband comes home from work. Why do I have to start my day with a shower anyway. Who cares whether my breakfast has to be made and eaten in a particular way when a packet of chips will suffice. 

I need to remember to enjoy the time, live in the moment and appreciate the little things. So I will rock him to sleep while my breakfast gets cold. I will carry him instead of doing laundry. I will let him sleep in my arms if that's what he needs instead of thinking that I could update my blog in this time. I will nurse him again in the wee hours of the morning even though he just work me up an hour ago for a feed. 

I want to enjoy every magical moment of this tiny and fragile state of his life. I just need to remember to enjoy the little things because I will never get these moments back.

Dear Mom,

I don't think I ever knew how much you loved me. Not until now when I have my own child.

A mother's love is described as unconditional and I never quite understood that. To the young and carefree me without children, a mother's love was about taking care of your offspring, nurturing them and loving them even when they behave like little monsters.

To the me who's now  been a mother for 8 weeks, I realise how overwhelming a mother's love is.  For me, it's an unconventional love that's been growing exponentially since he was born.

I thought love would be my heart swelling at the first glimpse of him. Instead, it's wanting to take away all his pain when he looks at me. It's being territorial towards anyone that might do him the tiniest bit of harm. It's being steadfast in my decisions to do what's best for him despite what the people closest to me think. It's enduring physical pain to set him up for the best I can develop him into. It's losing my independence to make sure he's safe and secure. It's knowing that I'm all he needs and I'm willing to be enough for him.

Now with a love that's how been growing exponentially for 8 weeks, how do I even begin to understand the intensity of my mother's love for me, 31 years later.

All I can say is thank you. Thank you for holding a needy me in your arms all day long in a time when gender roles meant you also had to maintain a pristine house and place supper on the table all by yourself. Thank you for your milk that not only sustained me but is probably the reason for my strong immune system. Thank you for your sleepless nights at a time when every diaper change meant more to hand-wash the next day. Thank you for giving me the best you could afford at a time when maternity leave came with no pay and no job security.

Above all, thank you for loving with such passion that your children would never understand.

From,
Your daughter with a newfound appreciation for you.

Before The Great Butchering, I knew I didn't want people visiting me at home with a newborn.  I totally knew how stressful it would be so I opted to ask people to visit me at the hospital instead. It didn't quite work. I still had a ton of visitors at the hospital and at home. In hindsight, I would have preferred fewer guests but people love babies and close friends and family want to welcome my baby into the world with us. 

Seven weeks later, I can definitely offer up some advice when it comes to visiting a newborn. Some of these are common sense and some I was not aware of and may have made a few of these faux pas myself before my baby was born. Here are my dos and don'ts.

Oh and all of these are based on my real life events. I shit you not!

1. Sanitise
It's like people forget about basic hygiene when they see something cute. That cute little thing is brand new with clean slate for an immune system. Yeah you may think your hands are clean but you've touched numerous things since that could make a little baby sick.

Instead: Visit the bathroom to wash your hands before touching the baby. The over paranoid mom will love you and will definitely want to have you over again.

2. Don't visit if you're sick I mean surely people know this. Most people I know back away when someone with the sniffles walks past. So why, in God's name, do you saunter your germs in the presence of a newborn and proceed to play with it?

Instead: If you're close to the parents, tell them that you really wanted to visit but don't want to make their baby sick. Visit when you're feeling better. The hoards of visitors would have dissipated by then and the parents would have had a better hang on parenting making your visit a lot more fun.

3. Actually BE helpful with your advice I remember struggling with a screaming baby in the hospital. People would give me well meaning advice like "you should swaddle him tightly", "stroking his cheek will calm him down" and "maybe he's hungry". Or the retrospective advice like when I found out I starved Squeak: "I knew that child was hungry". Shut the fudge up!

Instead: I had no idea what I was doing, I was overwhelmed and I'd probably never remember your advice at the appropriate time anyway. How about you actually help like showing me how to swaddle him tightly or stroking his cheek so that he calms down? You think he's hungry? How about leaving so I can awkwardly attempt feeding him. And as for your retrospective advice, instead of being a condescending cow, why didn't you help AT THE TIME. For example you could have asked if you could assist me in seeing how the baby latches.

4. Don't overstay your welcome
My social butterfly nature loves company. My sleep deprived state doesn't. If you must visit in those early days and all you're doing is a social visit, keep it short. I very often delayed my crying baby's feed so that visitors could have some time with him. (The assholes kept playing with a screaming newborn instead of offering for me to appropriately attend to him but it's my fault for being nice so lesson learnt.) And when I did have "free" time, I needed sleep.

Instead: Keep your visit short and ask the parents what time is convenient for them. Friday after work might not work for new parents trying to figure out a bedtime routine.  Remember, in just a few weeks (and for the rest of its life), you'll have plenty of time to spend with the baby and the parents.

5. Personal space There are some disgusting people out there who think it's ok to put their fingers in MY baby's mouth and then proceed to announce "he's hungry". You retard! A baby's natural reflex is to suck anything that's put into his mouth.

Instead: If you aren't comfortable with me sticking my fingers in your mouth, don't do that shit. If you want to diagnose hunger, hand him to me to check. I'll gladly offer my boob instead - a receptacle much cleaner than your hands.

6. Bring food No one cares about the parents who are exhausted zombies with a never ending to do list. They are all there to play with the baby.

Instead: One of my favourite guests was a friend who packed a week's supply of food for the husband to eat while I was in hospital. Guess who gets to spend time with Squeak once a week?

7. Inside voices I never realised how loud certain people are. There is nothing more frustrating than struggling to put a baby to sleep only for him to be startled by someone's super sonic laughter. You should see me try to hide my death stare when that happens.

Instead: Use your inside voice.

8. Social media
Am I the only one who knows the modern day manners of not snapping and posting pics without consent on social media? Yes, we all know you have no real life and want to share anything that says otherwise but do you have to be an asshole about it? I don't even have the time to wipe my baby's face, let alone comb my hair. And do you want to guess how many unflattering pics  were taken in those early days and posted on Facebook without my permission? Assholes!

Instead: Ask permission before you take or post photos. In all likelihood, someone like me will say no. Or better yet, help mom calm a colicky baby who's been crying for three hours so she can look presentable for your need to let the world know that you are currently visiting a baby.

9. Make yourself useful
Newborns need to be fed every two hours - on demand actually; so if the baby is going through a growth spurt, it could spend most of its time on the boob. They go through an average of 12 nappy changes a day. They need to be burped, cuddled and put to sleep. And then there is dealing with their immature digestive system which bring along colic, tummy cramps and gas pains. The parents do not have time to do anything - especially entertain.

Instead: Rather help yourself to their kitchen and offer to make them a cup of tea. Two of my friends washed all my dishes for me without being asked. They just did it and I appreciated that so much.

10. Don't keep my baby awake! Yeah, he's cute; I know. Yes, he wants to look around in wide eyed wonder; everything is new. Of course you think he loves your entertainment. But when I tell you that my baby can't be awake for too long, don't continue to over stimulate my child. When you are done playing with him, I have to struggle for hours to put a cranky baby who is over tired to sleep.

Instead: How about rocking my baby to sleep as part of your play time with him? Maybe once you're gone, The Husband and I may even get to eat supper together.

If you've recently experienced life with a newborn, what do you think of my advice? Is there something you'd add to this list for guests to know before they knock on your door?

Naming my son was by far the biggest responsibility I have ever had. And I have had pretty big responsibilities in my life. Still, the burden of naming my baby far outweighed anything else I've been through. He will be defined by this name for the rest of his life. Also, what if I name him something and change my mind later? This responsibility comes with such finality.

What made it even more difficult was the hard and fast rules Hindus abide by without ever questioning their current day relevance. At birth, you're supposed to map out the alignment of the planetary bodies at the specific time and geographic location of birth. Through a few formulas, you're given a syllable or letter of the Hindi alphabet which you use as a starting letter to name your child. Until then, the foetus and newborn is nameless for fear of what bad luck may bring.

But ever since I can remember, I always had an alphabet preference. I love so many boys names beginning with the letter A and knew my son would one day be named Aashiq. Then everything got messed up when I decided to have a child...with someone...someone who also wanted a say in naming his child. Unexpectedly, my dreams also jumped onto the A name bandwagon and decided on Aarav.

The priest had come back to us with disastrous letters. They were so bad that I enlisted the help of the Twitterverse with #HelpNameSqueak. I went through lists of names horrified at the prospect of naming my child one of them. Still, none of the names appealed to me. Here's what we came up with for the letters D and H:
- Dayaram Daya (the same name for a surname. Anyone remember Scot Scott?)
- Doogie Howser (when you need inspiration from pop culture. Mind you there are many a Ronaldo Govender in Chatsworth who's parents were inspired by Manchester United.)
- Harshit (why wait for schoolkids to make fun of your child's name when you can do it yourself)
- Aashiq Deepshith Hardik Daya (how about keeping the names I like and settling on H and D as middle names? ADHD. How's that monogrammed on a towel?)
- Hariprasad (This just sounds like an old man - not appropriate as a newborn name at all.)
- Hriday (I'm not even sure I can pronounce this name propely).
- Hanuman (I love names with beautiful meanings but I draw the line with religious God names. I mean if Squeak decides to become a drug dealer or stripper, I don't want his name to hold him back.)
- Himanshu (would I be able to yell this name out when he's in trouble?)

Six days after his birth, we gave up on H and D, not knowing how to tell the religious parents that we were going to scrap tradition and go with a name we liked. I was thrilled at naming his Aashiq but now The Husband preferred Aarav. How did we resolve another naming conflict? Rock, paper, scissors, of course.

I knew having a newborn around would be hard. I mean I used to joke about how I might go through an entire day without showering. So I knew. But experiencing it is something else entirely. I thought I'd share exactly what I get up to in a day so that anyone about to have a baby can get all the details and those without newborns can be grateful that they can lead normal lives.

Squeak is now one month old - 6 weeks to be exact. I think that is important to mention since my day looked very different a few weeks ago. In fact, it was a lot easier than this phase.

I am starting my day at 4pm. That's when Squeak decided to go to bed for sleepy time last night.

15:58 Ah so content in my arms. I can't believe he wants to sleep now when The Husband is about to come home from work. Oh well, there goes your play time with dad and the bath you were supposed to have.

16:00 Feeling exhausted, I'm grateful that we started preparing supper last night. Time to catch up with The Husband, finish cooking, enjoy a delicious meal together which we rarely get to do.

19:30 Squeak screams bloody murder! We manage to get him into PJs. Do you know what a mission it is to put a vest over his head? His head is like a third of his body. Memo to self: google how big a baby's head is supposed to be in proportion to his body. The exhaustion is catching up with me. That's it! After this feed, I'm going to get an early night.

20:00 I put Squeak down to sleep. So cute! I think he's dreaming about boobs. He has a smile on his face, moves his head around looking for a boob while he opens his mouth and tries to bite down. I'm happy he's just dreaming and then get into bed.

20:33 waaaah I check the time expecting Squeak to have gone down for three hours. So much for catching up on some sleep. Memo to self: when The Husband gets home at 4, I need to make that my new nap time. He gets a clean diaper amidst the wriggles and flailing around all over the changing mat.

22:42 He's up again. I cradle him close to me and he feels wet. I look at Squeak. See what happens when you wriggle around. The Husband awakes for diaper duty and then back to me for a feed. He falls asleep on the boob. I put him back down to sleep.

00:35 How I wish I didn't have to get up. This time it looks like Squeak just wants to be held while he tries to break wind. I never thought I would comfort someone to the point of helping him fart. This must be love. He goes back to sleep only to scream from gas pain minutes later. I hold him and massage him and feel like crying because he's in pain. This continues for a few hours until the wind is out and he sleeps again. 

03:43 Another cry jolts me awake. I look to the right and The Husband is fast asleep. I promised him I wouldn't wake him up for this 4 o'clock nappy change. I'm going this one alone. Aite! Executive decision made. No diaper change even though I smell something a bit unsavoury. Let's get straight to the boobs! As the feed goes on, I can see Squeak expelling waste, I can smell it and Squeak starts to fuss because he's uncomfortable. I ignore it. I change it up and give Squeak a different boob to play with. Oh no, he's wide awake and fusses louder. The Husband suggests changing him in a groggy voice. Ugh...I brave the cold to find the biggest poop ever. Where did all that shit even come from? Like where in this tiny body? Where? I ponder about what a bad mother I am while I try to put him to sleep.

04:30 Still fussing. He won't sleep. You know why? Cos I should have changed his diaper early on. Now he's wide awake and loud.

05:00 Rocking him doesn't work. I place him on my chest while I'm propped at an uncomfortable 45 degree angle. Soon, with pelvic thrusts to gently rock him (how else do you rock a baby lying down), he falls asleep.

05:30 He's asleep. I'm sleepy but I might drop him. I calculate that despite going to bed at 8pm, I've had 4 hours of sleep. I could do with more. I put him in bed. Within minutes he's back on my chest crying cos no amount of blankets can replicate my warmth. I shortly try rolling over to my side so he lies in my bed still touching me. Nope! He wants to lie on top of me. Fine then!

06:30 The Husband kisses me goodbye. Great! Another breakfast with him missed. I was really hoping we could continue starting our days together with a meal.

07:52 Squeak wakes up. Time to start the day. I managed to get an hour of sleep in there. Clearly my need for sleep out weighed my logical thinking that Squeak could have fallen off my chest.

09:00 Awake time. I set up his play mat in the bathroom and place him on there. I slowly attempt to get ready to shower in case he needs me. I take off my clothes slowly and he doesn't seem to mind entertaining himself. As soon as I step into the shower, I hear him whimper. I rush to him naked and pacify him. He's calm and I attempt to shower a few more times. Eventually, I'm in the shower. Time to prioritise. At lightning speed, I wash the essentials. The baby is still doing ok. Yay! I can wash my body today. I soap up my body and he yells out for me. Ah crap! "Mommy's here, baby." I wash off the soap and try to get to him as quickly as possible. His cries get louder. "I'm right here. You can hear my voice, baby". Louder now and I'm worried that the construction workers next door are going to call child services for an unattended child. "It's ok, babe. I'm coming right now. Water switched off and I rush to him dripping water all over his play mat. He won't calm down. I cuddle him. Put him down. Dry myself. Great, my boobs know that he is crying. Wrap a towel over myself and bring his hungry mouth to the milk dripping for him. Feed him while being depressed that I'm sitting in a wet towel dancing to his tune. Somehow I squeeze in getting dressed and brushing my teeth despite the fact that no one will see me today. 

10:55 He starts to fuss again. I carry him with me and pop a slice of bread in the toaster. I gulp my toast down as he screams for his own breakfast. What is that in his ear? Holy shit! It's a breadcrumb. I try to inspect further in his ear. What else did I drop in there? Squeak's breakfast is served and Squeak decides that the day has much more to offer than his dreams. He fights the yawns to stay awake while I put him to sleep. 

11:30 Aww cute man. He's asleep in my arms. I gently put him in his crib and then sit down to sort out work admin. He cries before I could even switch on my laptop. I rock him to sleep and put him down again. This keeps happening. I get no work done and I eventually decide to let him sleep in my arms while I watch some random shows on television. I dream about the days when whipping up lunch was so easy. I'm hungry but I don't want to move in case I wake him up. 

14:02 He's had a good two hours of sleep and now he demands food. Nay, he wants booby? A new nappy? Entertainment? God! I don't know. I offer all of this and there's still crying in between like it's not enough. Baby seems to have a meltdown. 

14: 30 I can't wait for The Husband to come home to take over. Let's put on some Rockabye to lull him to sleep. Don't wanna be an American Idiot. Am I supposed to be exposing him to my worldly views this early?

15:00 I feel bad for being frustrated. I apologise to him about what a bad mother I am and that I deserve all the scolding he seems to be giving me. 

15: 35 The Husband put the laundry to was this morning. All I was supposed to do was hang it up to dry. Crying baby and one arm rendered useless because I'm carrying him. Seems like mission impossible. Idea! I should take one item of clothing out of the washing machine at a time. Maybe walking to the clotheshorse outside (which fell over while I tried to put it up) and back will help him to sleep. Nope, it just resulted in a sore shoulder and back from lugging around three kilos while walking unnecessarily.

15:50 Looks like he was crying because he was tired. He's dozing off to sleep. Another day of no play with The Husband. Another day skipping a bath. I don't know how healthy this is.

16:00 uh huh uh huh uh huh Looks like he's still fighting that sleep. Daddy bonding over bath time will happen after all. And maybe now that he's home, I can eat some lunch.

And so the cycle continues. Slightly different every day but each day comes with it's sleep deprivation, parent frustration, baby fussiness and cuteness overload. Does it sound familiar if you've been there?