I only had five hours sleep last night and it was nothing to do with either of my little children.
We had guests, the lovely (Aunty) Sarah and her smart new boyfriend Keith, and by the time we’d stopped laughing, drained our glasses, ordered a taxi and waved them off, it was 1.40am.
I might feel a bit tired now but last night was our first social engagement of the year and I can still remember that some kind of physical duress is part of the deal.
Talking of physical pain, yesterday morning I also hauled my flabby ass over to Hyde Park for my first park run in at least three months. It was my slowest time yet, nearly four minutes behind my PB, but I’m hopeful I’ll be pushing on by the summer.
What these two episodes show is that we’ve been in a cocoon but life is slowly returning to normal. Little Buddha’s colic has eased, she’s feeding like a demon and magically started sleeping through the night.
Before we had Boy Wonder, friends told us the first three months were horrendous but then, almost overnight, the madness ends and you feel a vague kind of control return.
Sure enough, Boy Wonder was right on cue and we marvelled at this apparent trick of nature, arriving just in time before we lost the plot.
This time, though, Little Buddha is still only nine weeks old, so our reprieve has come early. Is this just luck, the way she is, or are we actually better at this, more expert, confident and relaxed? The Duchess is still – insanely – hankering for a third and I’m a tiny bit tempted just to see if we can reach the End of The Mania in only six weeks.
So, we’re feeling human again in the daddyfool family. Now, we just need to prepare for teething and weaning.
Meanwhile, I’ve lost my best excuse for being a lazy get. I’ll now need to return friends’ calls, put away my clothes, sort out a new utility deal, put up shelves in our bedroom and get my hair cut.
And start posting to this blog more regularly.