What a difference a day makes

I am determined not to have another whiny post. So I will gloss over the crippling blisters my new football boots gave me last night. A post Christmas sales bargain, they proved to have a hidden cost last night. Blood shows up remarkably well on white socks, and will prove a good test for the washing liquid we use. The good news is that we had a relatively quiet night baby-wise. William fed at 7.30pm and we put him to bed. We didn’t hear a peep from him until 2am, when he fed quickly, and I was back in bed for 2.20am. Then no stirring until 7am this morning. I can cope with that sort of behaviour. He was so quiet that I had to go and check on him a couple of times, just to reassure myself that everything was OK. Mrs Zilla’s friend has finally been allowed to bring her baby home from hospital. She was born just before New Year, but was very small and had to be fed by a tube. It meant that she had to visit the hospital each day to see her daughter. Now she can feed normally she’s been discharged. We’ve consciously not been to see the friend, given our comparative ease of birth, and the speed with which William came home. She was suffering with depression before the pregnancy and I hope that getting the baby home will have given her a lift that she badly needs. She’s had a rough time of it, living at home with her parents, splitting from the father of her baby, coping with depression and the rumour of her ex being arrested for something despicable. Another of our friends revealed that she is pregnant at the weekend, so babies seem to be everywhere at the moment. They were adamant that they were not going to have another one, as their first was so troublesome. He’s just turned 5 and is finally sleeping in his own bed. So they now seem willing to give it a go again. My friend from school who had a baby recently rang last night, and he is still over the moon with becoming a parent, positively gushing with the wonderment and excitement of being a first time father. I’d forgotten how wrapped up in the moment you become first time around. It’s still always magical when you get that bundle of joy, but not quite as momentous as the first time. Your life turns upside down, priorities totally change and reality bites hard and fast. It made me totally reassess my values and beliefs. I had probably been drifting for too long before I became a father, and it made me focus much more. I’m looking forward to tomorrow night, Mrs Zilla is finishing her course of antibiotics, and we will be able to enjoy a nice bottle of wine for the first time in ages. I have managed to resist the lure of drinking while she’s not been able to, trying to show solidarity and understanding. It’s not been easy, with a couple of bottles winkling at me on several occasions, but my self restraint has won through. So tomorrow night, if William behaves again, will be a pleasant return to a relaxed and enjoyable weekend evening. Something nice to eat, a glass or two of wine and an evening curled up on the sofa.