1. At 6am, Nick hands me a red-faced grumplet to look after. I am not grateful, but I climb back into the big bed and try to parent well. Milk is not what he wants; and nor is a toy.
I've been reading about skin-to-skin for poorly babies, so I strip off his pyjamas and my vest and try to cuddle him. He is all knees and elbows and anger and sharp, sharp nails.
I release him and he sits there roaring at me and clawing his nappy. "Nappy change?" I ask him. More fury -- but I don't know what other variables to alter, so I strip him right off and wrap a towel round his bum.
He relaxes, smiles, snuggles up to me for some bub and
...
the next thing we know, we are being woken by a rather surprised Nick at 9am.
2. I don't much like waiting to eat in the morning, but I do enjoy the bake-from-frozen croissants and cup of coffee that are my weekend breakfast.
3. "I love fish fingers," says Nick when I (only half-joking) put them on the lunch menu. So we have them (Alec likes them, too).
you've got breakfast in bed for mother's day to look forward to when Alex is old enough and your favourite evening meal - which was what I had prepared for me by 18 year old son, George, after a lovely walk in the Derbyshire Hills! All the best to the three of you
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