When we bought our cot I really only had one criteria, which was “I’d love everything to match!”. After a lot of flicking through catalogues, baby window shopping and matching-furniture-gazing, we settled on a gorgeous range called Horizon. I then nagged OH to put it together so that it was all “ready!” (The baby didn’t actually sleep in it till he was 6 months old but still! It was “ready”).
Now, one vital thing I forgot to do was to check whether I’d actually be able to place the baby into it at it’s lowest setting. Up until last night it didn’t occur to me I might actually struggle to do it! I’m 5ft nothing so you’d have thought it’s something I would have really paid attention to. But, i’d never had a baby before so what did I know. I was too wrapped up in pretty baby things and what the baby looked like in all the weeks of my pregnancy e.g. “This week your baby looks like an
Aubergine.” cue “ooooooh!”. Plus, I had matching furniture and the nursery looked gorgeous. So. You know. All was fine and dandy. Umm.
Yesterday evening baby’s bed time started at 7.30pm and, like every night, seemed to go on till 8.30pm when he was actually finally asleep. Phew! Now a bit of “me” time. OH, meanwhile, was grumbling about his return to work and making slow moves to get ready for the dreaded Monday rush. About an hour after baby was finally asleep OH called me upstairs to “you’ve got to see this!”.
I was greeted by a wide awake baby boy standing up in his cot, wobbly but firm, holding onto his cot mobile for support, whilst licking it at the same time for good measure! Baby Boy can’t pull himself up too well without support yet so I was a bit dumfounded. It was 9.30pm at night! In the dark! And not a peep out of the little monkey over the monitor! Till we walked in that is. Seeing us just got him more excited and he dropped the only way he knows how. By letting go and hoping for the best, ricocheting off the airwrap that surrounds his cot bars, shuffling up closer to where I was, pulling himself up again and presenting me with an extremely satisfied smile of achievement. He then leaned over, top of cot at chest height, and tried to grab hold of my top which is his signal to pick him up! Oh crap.
“WE HAVE TO LOWER THE COT TONIGHT!!!”
I suddenly had visions of him leaning over a wee bit too far, tumbling over and another trip to A&E.
“Ok, I’ll do it tomorrow. Relax, he’ll be..”
I interrupted with some inane babbling retorting didn’t he know the stats of babies falling out of cots (neither did I), and that we both know how boisterous the little one can be and that….blah blah blah. (Thats probably what OH actually heard about 5 seconds after i started with my babbling. That, or something similar to radio frequency).
The cot got lowered and i was then presented with my second drama of the night. I can’t actually lean over properly to place the baby into the cot. Oh. Crap. My 5ft nothingnesss means that even on tiptoes I am struggling. The OH suggested I wear heels! I haven’t done that yet. After a few attempts throughout today I think I have devised a way. It Involves leaning over as far as i can, partially crushing my rib cage in the process, and trying to “lower” him as far as I can on his bum, then lowering his head. So far, I’ve woken him up completely twice, been successful once and partially woken him once where, luckily, he’s shuffled into a more comfy position and gone back to sleep.
It seems cots are not designed for little women!! Maybe I need to try the heels.