Everyone's favourite tourist reporting in. That being me, Sir
Reginald Liverpants-Fluffybottom IV. Any more of this and I'll simply
have to sign up or something....
Under orders from Dr D. , we gathered up the tribe and launched
ourselves in the direction of the hospital for a CGT or a BFG or a KFC
or some other grouping of three letters. This meant going to the
hospital and strapping small blue things to the extremely large sack of
baby in order to hear things like heartbeats and random gurgling.
It also meant containing the attentions of three easily bored
children, so we packed paper and pencils. After initial disinterest at
the goings on [meh, weird machine, I've got pencils...] the children
paid a little attention when the steady WOP WOP WOP WOP came from the
machine accompanied with graph output.
“What's that sound, Daddy?”
“What's that funny drawing?”
After an explanation that the sound was the baby's heartbeat and the
graph was information for doctors and nurses, Thing 2 [I have them
additionally labelled, Things 1-3. The new baby will of course be Thing
4. These monikers are sometimes far easier to get out of the mouth than
their actual names.] settled back down immediately to attempt to draw
the graph output.
All Things behaviour is rapidly beginning to change in the face of
fact that a new sibling will be amongst their number on Tuesday. Thing 2
has become extremely helpful, she put away groceries yesterday before I
had a chance to say Why are putting away those groceries? Thing 1 has
been swinging between acting out and being clingy. It seems he has half
an idea Mummy may be in some kind of danger, but unable to comprehend
exactly what is going on. Thing 3 is joining him on the mood swings but
she's probably just picking up on the change of the emotional tenor in
the house, especially as Mummy's lying down / being active ratio has
dramatically skewed in favour of her being flat on her back. This in and
of itself is an odd occurrence without adding a new baby in the mix.
Meanwhile both Mummy and Daddy are tired tired tired. Mummy hasn't
really slept properly for quite some time [She spent last night on the
couch because the bed, according to her, didn't offer the mix of
comfort and being at a near right angle to relive the cough] and Daddy
is somewhat unaccustomed to being a sole parent working at anywhere near
the pace of half Naomi speed.
Look forward to Tuesday, concerned people, with prayers, happy vibes
and if you're a evil magician, perhaps a calf slaughtered underneath a
waxing moon with the correct incantations. I'll take whatever help I can
get.
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