Today

My day began at 5:50 with my beautiful little girl calling 'Daddy, Daddy, Daddy' at the top of her voice - he has never ever got her up in the morning.

(Ok that's a little harsh, when he was here, way back when, we did race each other to get to our smiling little baby, but that was forever ago.)

A little indignant I delivered madam her breakfast in bed and returned to mine praying she would return to sleep.

She didn't.

We read, we played and we even danced.

I've been over compensating again this morning because in a wee few hours I am gong to have needles stuck in my daughter, potentially give her autism but save the world from a measles epidemic - yep it's MMR time.

Heigh ho, must be done.

(Spelling of 'heigh' is a copy from a Stephen Fry tweet and if anyone knows how to spell it must be him.)

So...

I lost the battle of the wills; Isobel still refused the bottle when she woke up.

As for the jabs: the three needles hurt, Isobel screamed and I shed a tear, but she cried far, far less than she did about the bottle.

What's a Mummy to do?

Heart Break

The Doctor pronounced her as perfect: perfectly proportioned and perfectly pretty (but we already knew that!).

The nurse stuck pins in her... She screamed... and screamed again. Screaming as if her lungs would burst, and my heart broke.

She wouldn't even take solace in the boob, the boob had betrayed her and I'd let her be hurt. That's not what Mummies are for.

So, just as I'd cried on the way there, I cried on the way home.

Now Isobel is drifting in and out of sleep in my arms and I'm eating chocolate, just waiting for a smile to let me know I'm forgiven.