Feed me Seymour, Feed me NOW!!

Son and I ventured into work today to introduce him to all the kind friends and colleagues who had signed cards and spent time shopping for many lovely gifts for him (and his Mummy).

I am currently living my life in a series of 2 hour chunks. This is key to how the rest of our day panned out!

At 11am he'd been fed and was sleeping in the car seat and I figured that we had till 1pm before it would be time to find a quiet corner and feed, burp, mop up the throw up, soothe and settle Son. We were going to be in the office from 12-2pm. Lunch with Husband and then a tour around some familiar faces.

We didn't make it up to the team until 1pm so I already knew that I was on borrowed time and warned the smiling faces that we might have to make an abrupt exit. We unfortunately lost some time when he threw his 11am feed all over my top. . . so an emergency replacement had to be picked up on route to the office. We made it into the office for 12:30pm and after lunch we were with the team at 1pm. . .

You could wipe the tension off of my forehead. You see during the day Son can go from 0 to 100 in terms of fury over an empty or suspected empty stomach and its very much a case of find a space and plug him in ASAP. At night though I seem to be able to get to him before he is awake enough to realise he is starving and we fill him and and settle him down again with very little throw up and his eyes remain shut through out.

He was, as is becoming a bit of a pattern these days, a wee saint sensing my tension he behaves impeccably!

Smiles and giggles and batting the lashes for all the girls. A right wee charmer.

When The Boss arrived I introduced Son and prayed quietly that he wouldn't fart really loudly (and smellily) in front of him or projectile puke at his suit. He did however accept Boss' compliments graciously but was not prepared to grip his finger. Well you can only ask so much of an 8 week old.

Having met my team we went to find Husband and say hello and thank you to his team (it is by chance rather than design that Husband and I work for the same company, in the same office, on the same floor, in the same wing and in eye line of each other- we do not and will not work together, by design!). He met 2 of Husbands work colleagues before losing his cool.

Doing our Usain Bolt impressions we (Son and I) sprinted for the exit*, the lift and into a baby changing disabled loo. For a feed.

Welcome to my rant.

1. Disabled loos should have lids, shouldn't they?! I had to sit on a toilet seat with no lid and feed Son. Not very relaxing in this context in another, where my jeans and pants are around my ankles and I am in there for entirely different purposes, I know this to be a more relaxing proposition.

2. Baby changing rooms, while spacious, should always have a toilet in there. In a near by shopping centre I popped into the Baby Change room where we had a more challenging post feed experience but I will come onto that in a moment.
     If I need the loo what am I meant to do with Son and his Wicked Wheels?! Leave him parked outside the cubicle and tend to my own needs?! I'm think not, lord knows what trouble he might get into. So I have used the disabled loos and brought him in with me and we have sat awkwardly, while he looks at me curiously and I try not to look at him until we can both get out of there tout suite.

Later on today we killed some time at the aforementioned shopping centre before picking Husband up and heading for home during which time we had to tend to another feed. This one ended in a series of throw ups**, and I am not ashamed to say that by the time we'd finished I was in this locked Baby Change room in my under wear pacing around with a crying baby over my shoulder. Thats right I am not ashamed I just dont care.

As long as Son is calming down and feeding and I am not getting hot, flustered and stressed and that we are not doing this in the middle of a shop but in the privacy of a large locked room then where's the harm?!

The weather has been pretty muggy so off with the new top pre-feed.  I have already kicked off my pumps to cool my feet and hopefully cool down for this feeding session.

We sit down and feed.

Puke all over my Jeans- off with the jeans,

Now in my under-roos. Son is puking left right and centre. In an effort to keep track and not step my my bear feet into any of the wet freshly consumed boob juice I dropped a tissue over each little liquid parcel he threw over my shoulder.

He drifted off and I sat back down to ease off my back.

Sleep when your baby sleeps. This is the advice I hear time and time again. It is advice I am sick of to be honest. It only really works if you are at home or know when your child is about to drop off and can arrange to be at home for this reason.

We have no sense of any pattern of routine of behaviour during the day to be able to facilitate the latter. And neither Son or I are prepared to be held hostage in the flat by the sleep monsters. Me - praying they'll take him quickly and Him fighting them off with a rage. This afternoon he fought them and ultimately lost but not before he tried to pelt them with puke.

So I tried closing my eyes.

That's right this afternoon I was perched uncomfortably on a chair in an M&S Baby Change (one of the better changing facilities I have come across) in my underwear holding Son over my shoulder with my eyes closed trying to catch some z's.

It doesn't happen.
1. I am concerned about drifting off and dropping Son. A fear I have even when I am awake.
2. The chair is uncomfortable making sleep impossible.
3. The lights flick between bright and dim- presumably to prevent exhausted parents doing exactly what I was attempting.

We are both shattered but we make it to the end of the day without falling apart too much***and both being told either how well we look (me, despite the bags under my eyes) or gorgeous we are (him). We get home with smiles on all our faces. It is the weekend and we are all happy and together for 2 days before the week begins again!

*I know how frustrating it is to be in an office environment when someone brings in a baby which starts to scream and cry. Worse still if you are on an audio and trying to speak. Having been there myself, and grumbled about it, I am determined that we respect the fact this is an office and any sign of screaming or crying we exit. Quickly.

**The throwing up Son has been doing isn't too much of a concern as I don't think hes throwing up the whole feed and isn't running a temperature etc. We're on weight monitoring though to make sure he's getting big week by week! 

***Mainly me freaking out about his throwing up and him freaking out that he's not getting fed quickly enough. Breast Feeding on demand is like being at the mercy of a power crazed lunatic!