The cliché
At the break of dawn, my alarm goes off and I eagerly tie a high pony with the excitement of finally getting to do what I have been missing for a year now. The perfect patnee with a schedule for everything. After I left to native for my first delivery, I had missed being a responsible woman of the house, as I was pampered to the core by the overenthusiastic grandparents of my kid.
A year ago, we were in a different country and the lifestyle we had there was pretty calm but organised. I was always on time. Wake up, cook breakfast, send my husband off to work by 7.30 am and then I had all the time for everything. My experiments with paint, craft and even cooking kept me zealous on most of the day.
Coming back to the present, I had to 'stealth move' out of the bed so as to ensure my baby was not disturbed. After a quick face & mouth wash I went to the kitchen and began my task. Five minutes would have passed before I heard my son cry. He has sensed that I was not around. My poor hus, first experience at handling a crying baby, looked all confused and worried. He held our son in his arms as if to figure out the stop button. Funny as it may sound, I almost reminded him it was not an alarm clock. It took some time to pacify my kid and put him back to bed. Needless to say that the morning was a mess with the repeated episode of baby waking up and me running back and forth the kitchen, I realised my idea of an ideal schedule popped like a soap bubble.
A few days went by, and all in the same manner. I and my hus started feeling more and more tired. Waking up early morning had become a herculean task for both of us because we were sleep deprived at day as well as at night. I even had a day when my husband read to me about the importance of sleep and the effects of sleeplessness. Then again we could do nothing about it other than brushing off the thought of 8 hours sleep from our brains.
As life slowly progressed, (I mean really slowly, in about 2 weeks) my son had developed news habits which, most of the time, left us puzzled. Little did we know he was up for a surprise.
At the break of dawn, my alarm goes off and I eagerly tie a high pony with the excitement of finally getting to do what I have been missing for a year now. The perfect patnee with a schedule for everything. After I left to native for my first delivery, I had missed being a responsible woman of the house, as I was pampered to the core by the overenthusiastic grandparents of my kid.
A year ago, we were in a different country and the lifestyle we had there was pretty calm but organised. I was always on time. Wake up, cook breakfast, send my husband off to work by 7.30 am and then I had all the time for everything. My experiments with paint, craft and even cooking kept me zealous on most of the day.
Coming back to the present, I had to 'stealth move' out of the bed so as to ensure my baby was not disturbed. After a quick face & mouth wash I went to the kitchen and began my task. Five minutes would have passed before I heard my son cry. He has sensed that I was not around. My poor hus, first experience at handling a crying baby, looked all confused and worried. He held our son in his arms as if to figure out the stop button. Funny as it may sound, I almost reminded him it was not an alarm clock. It took some time to pacify my kid and put him back to bed. Needless to say that the morning was a mess with the repeated episode of baby waking up and me running back and forth the kitchen, I realised my idea of an ideal schedule popped like a soap bubble.
A few days went by, and all in the same manner. I and my hus started feeling more and more tired. Waking up early morning had become a herculean task for both of us because we were sleep deprived at day as well as at night. I even had a day when my husband read to me about the importance of sleep and the effects of sleeplessness. Then again we could do nothing about it other than brushing off the thought of 8 hours sleep from our brains.
As life slowly progressed, (I mean really slowly, in about 2 weeks) my son had developed news habits which, most of the time, left us puzzled. Little did we know he was up for a surprise.
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