just kind of sluicing us both down. DH slept through it all of course, or pretended to. So if anyone has tips for getting poo out of bath towels Iâd appreciate them ⦠*sigh*
Gleek
Stain remover best for towels, the heavy duty stuff. LOL at DH snoring!
AbbysMum
Just wondering what you mean by you have an MA. Not sure what that has to do with anything. All babies poo and all Mammies have to clean it up. Sorry but thought that was weird thing to say
Qwerty
Thought that was strange myself AbbeysMum ⦠Iâm a SAHM, maybe cleaning babyâs bums is for the likes of us?
Della
Jesus girls, I didnât mean
âHi, Honey, Iâm home!â
âIn here.â Yvonne looked up from the laptop, keeping her voice low.
âGorgeous day outside â¦â
âShhh!â
âSorry, hon.â
Grimacing in an attempt to look apologetic, her husband flopped down on the sofa beside her.
âMove up in the bed! Whatcha doinâ?â
The baby in her arms whimpered and Yvonne jiggled her gently.
âTalking shit. Seriously, you wouldnât be interested.â
Closing the laptop cover, she dropped a kiss onto her daughterâs head.
âHad a good day?â
âYeah. Grand.â
It was a very Irish word, grand, and a very useful one. Still sounded kind of funny in her London accent, but Yvonne had been happy to adopt it when she moved to Dublin. Grand. Fine. Alright. Her day had been grand. The baby had fed when she was supposed to, slept when she was supposed to and pooed on cue. Not very exciting, and she certainly didnât feel like giving Gerry a complete rundown.
âGreat.â
Gerry yawned, his arm hitting against hers as he stretched and the child yelped, disturbed from her slumber.
âAh, not now, chick, itâs too early â¦â
Yvonne hitched up her top and latched RóisÃn onto her breast in one smooth movement. Amazing what a bit of practice could do. Just five months ago she had thought breastfeeding was the most alien, difficult thing sheâd ever had to do. Childbirth had been a doddle in comparison. But now, twenty weeks later, her boobs were her secret weapon in the war against salty baby tears.
âSorry.â
âShe needs another bit of a doze or sheâll be like a demon when she wakes up.â
âSorry.â
Gerry tried again, with a little more enthusiasm. Happy to have him home at something approximating a reasonable hour, Yvonne decided to let him get away with it. In her pre-baby life, she could never understand mothersâ obsession with sleep, getting it, persuading a baby to have it, bemoaning the loss of it. Now, she knew that the happiness of the entire family could depend on the smallest member getting enough of it. But Gerry didnât spend anything like the amount of time she did around the baby, and it would be unfair to expect him to understand.
âYouâll have a cup of tea?â
âI will.â
God, it must be Christmas. Yvonne smiled and allowed her body to relax back into the sofa as her husband headed for the kitchen. The baby, suckling slowing, drifted back to sleep inher arms. Life was good sometimes. Simple, way simpler than it used to be, but good.
âA biscuit?â
Ah, too good to be true. Gerry was love-bombing her for a reason. Careful not to disturb the baby, she raised her voice slightly so it would carry as far as the kitchen.
âBabe, you are home for the evening, arenât you? We said weâd get a takeaway?â
âYeah. About that.â
âAh, Ger â¦â She could hear the whine rise in her voice, but she didnât care. âYou promised â¦â
âItâs Teevan. He just texted, he wants us to throw out tonightâs running order, start again. Weâre totally up against it. Iâm sorry, babe. I have to be back in the office for six.â
Gerry walked back into the sitting room, a cup
Gleek
Stain remover best for towels, the heavy duty stuff. LOL at DH snoring!
AbbysMum
Just wondering what you mean by you have an MA. Not sure what that has to do with anything. All babies poo and all Mammies have to clean it up. Sorry but thought that was weird thing to say
Qwerty
Thought that was strange myself AbbeysMum ⦠Iâm a SAHM, maybe cleaning babyâs bums is for the likes of us?
Della
Jesus girls, I didnât mean
âHi, Honey, Iâm home!â
âIn here.â Yvonne looked up from the laptop, keeping her voice low.
âGorgeous day outside â¦â
âShhh!â
âSorry, hon.â
Grimacing in an attempt to look apologetic, her husband flopped down on the sofa beside her.
âMove up in the bed! Whatcha doinâ?â
The baby in her arms whimpered and Yvonne jiggled her gently.
âTalking shit. Seriously, you wouldnât be interested.â
Closing the laptop cover, she dropped a kiss onto her daughterâs head.
âHad a good day?â
âYeah. Grand.â
It was a very Irish word, grand, and a very useful one. Still sounded kind of funny in her London accent, but Yvonne had been happy to adopt it when she moved to Dublin. Grand. Fine. Alright. Her day had been grand. The baby had fed when she was supposed to, slept when she was supposed to and pooed on cue. Not very exciting, and she certainly didnât feel like giving Gerry a complete rundown.
âGreat.â
Gerry yawned, his arm hitting against hers as he stretched and the child yelped, disturbed from her slumber.
âAh, not now, chick, itâs too early â¦â
Yvonne hitched up her top and latched RóisÃn onto her breast in one smooth movement. Amazing what a bit of practice could do. Just five months ago she had thought breastfeeding was the most alien, difficult thing sheâd ever had to do. Childbirth had been a doddle in comparison. But now, twenty weeks later, her boobs were her secret weapon in the war against salty baby tears.
âSorry.â
âShe needs another bit of a doze or sheâll be like a demon when she wakes up.â
âSorry.â
Gerry tried again, with a little more enthusiasm. Happy to have him home at something approximating a reasonable hour, Yvonne decided to let him get away with it. In her pre-baby life, she could never understand mothersâ obsession with sleep, getting it, persuading a baby to have it, bemoaning the loss of it. Now, she knew that the happiness of the entire family could depend on the smallest member getting enough of it. But Gerry didnât spend anything like the amount of time she did around the baby, and it would be unfair to expect him to understand.
âYouâll have a cup of tea?â
âI will.â
God, it must be Christmas. Yvonne smiled and allowed her body to relax back into the sofa as her husband headed for the kitchen. The baby, suckling slowing, drifted back to sleep inher arms. Life was good sometimes. Simple, way simpler than it used to be, but good.
âA biscuit?â
Ah, too good to be true. Gerry was love-bombing her for a reason. Careful not to disturb the baby, she raised her voice slightly so it would carry as far as the kitchen.
âBabe, you are home for the evening, arenât you? We said weâd get a takeaway?â
âYeah. About that.â
âAh, Ger â¦â She could hear the whine rise in her voice, but she didnât care. âYou promised â¦â
âItâs Teevan. He just texted, he wants us to throw out tonightâs running order, start again. Weâre totally up against it. Iâm sorry, babe. I have to be back in the office for six.â
Gerry walked back into the sitting room, a cup
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