Wombat

Wombat is now three months old. 

We’ve enjoyed these ‘fourth trimester’ months as they are known, hunkering down indoors and watching the arctic winds and rains from the comfort of bed. His little squeaks and snorts are occasionally interrupted by a sharp intake of breath, as if he has suddenly forgotten how to breath. 

I was bracing myself for the sleep deprivation and general exhaustion of having an infant around again, but I’m really enjoying things fourth time around. Of course the sleep deprivation is real,  4-5 hours per night, for the past 6 months. Sometimes I wonder how I am not in hospital. The exhaustion too, is probably worse given that I’m now older. The years make a difference. But it’s nice because Wombat is the last child, so each stage can be savoured and then mentally checked off, to be put in the ‘never have to do that again’ pile, for example childbirth. 

To briefly recap on the birth, it was very skillfully timed during the school day, so that Mole, Hedgehog and Beaver were dropped at school during early labour, and returned home with Mr M&H to meet Wombat. The intensity of things accelerated after the school drop-off. In the space of an hour it went from “Well I’m not really sure it could just be more Braxton Hicks” to “Where’s the f*cking entonox? Where is it? Where are they? Call them again! Don’t they know this is an EMERGENCY!”. Anyway, once the entonox arrived and Wombat arrived about 10 minutes after that, everything was lovely. 

Wombat has reached a lovely stage right now, where the dimmer switch of awareness has clicked on, so he’s all smiles and his head is spinning like a windmill at whatever is going on in the room. We are taking many dog walks in the sling, school runs in the buggy, or to playgroups in the car. He is comfy wherever he is.

Mole, Hedgehog and Beaver are besotted with Wombat. They are basically like three extra mums on standby for whenever I might want to hand him over. They have varying degrees of helpfulness. Mole is the most helpful as she can actually keep him happy for long enough to have a bath, while Beaver can hold him for about ten seconds before wobbling and then dumping him in the bouncy chair. Beaver also likes to come and helpfully wake him up by poking, just after I’ve settled him for a nap. Hedgehog probably pays him the least attention, but does come to stroke him in the mornings. Hedgehog is usually found in the bathroom playing with a pencil, or otherwise glued to the nearest available screen. Her needs are simple.

Wombat has the appetite of a small horse, so the feeding tends to be round the clock. I deal with this mostly by feeding him in bed while watching Netflix, reading, listening to a podcast or dozing etc. The rest of the time he sleeps while on the move in various modes of transport. This way I can get some fresh air and stave off the dreaded cabin fever. In the past week he has actually started to sleep in his cot. The first time this happened I did a happy dance on the landing and had some wine to celebrate. 

My favourite time of the day is during the school hours, when I’m alone with the baby and the dog. It is a golden time of peace and serenity, when everything can be clean and tidy, or I can go for a proper walk unimpeded by whining children. Beaver is the worst for whining at the moment. It carries through the house like a siren call; “Daddyyyyyyyyy - I want something”. I’ve noticed that Mr M&H mysteriously disappears for half an hour at a time in the toilet when this happens, so I’ve taken to doing the same thing, only in the loft. The trouble is there is no lock on the loft hatch, so I am found out and then have crying children brought to me. 

Mr M&H (who is less physically attached to Wombat) is going on runs most days, plus press-ups on the living room carpet. He claims this is so he can keep up with four children over the next 20 years. He is walking around like a sweaty but buff beast, so I’m not complaining. 

Happily I have found a new outlet during the baby haze in the form of skipping. I managed 50 skips on the driveway yesterday, so am going to work up my stamina before attempting the 5km parkruns again. In the meantime, between pushing the buggy up the hill on school runs and walks with an increasingly heavy Wombat in the sling, I reckon I’m doing my share of exercise. The trick is not to pull a muscle, which is easily done, especially now that I’m a ‘geriatric mum’ - aka the wrong side of 40. A friend of mine went to a physio class recently because of putting her back out with lifting the toddler, and everyone in the room was a mother with young children. I’m noticing a pattern. 

Anyways, I’m off for a nap now while he sleeps - got to rest those muscles.