Another one bites the dust.

Another shitty week, that is.

Another shitty week of hardly any sleep, teething, arguing and counting to ten.

The highlights of the week are as follows:

Lilian has gained just under two pounds. Her growth spurt continues and I cannot keep up! She'll be walking by next week.

She rolled her eyes at me. Full on eye rolling. As in 'god Mum you're so embarrassing'. Yep. Sixteen weeks old and already she is giving me attitude, that can't be a good sign.

My friend came for birthday tea (cakes and coke - of the drink variety not the powder) and we had a good natter like a pair of grannies on crack (one day).

I ate a huge chunk of chocolate cake in Rochester and didn't even think of the calories. If Lil can put two pounds on and not give a shit then I shall follow suit.

Someone called me a milf.

So as bad as it has been, it's been a bit better than last week.

The only way is up baby.

The Hangover.

After a really shitty week of realising I may be suffering from post natal depression (and someone bitching and shit stirring about it), family drama and lack of sleep, I decided to go out on Saturday night with two of my favourite people.

After having a bit of a panic attack about leaving Lilian, I necked a few vodkas and off we went.

We chatted and danced and did shots and took pictures and caused trouble like we normally do and before I knew it I was in bed, room spinning and baby snoring.

This morning I woke up with one hell of a hangover.

It has been well over a year since I last got extremely drunk and caused havoc and I made up for it. A hangover and a teething baby do not a pleasant cocktail make. But I shall be doing it again very soon.

I'm back, bitches.

Post Natal Depression?

I'm about to bare my soul here, you may find this uncomfortable.

I think I might have PND. I'm not entirely sure, it may be this cruddy weather (which I'm actually enjoying - I'm not a fan of the heat) or it might be good ol' post natal depression.

I haven't googled it, I know little about it. I feel very low, exhausted, teary, extremely hormonal and today, a tad suicidal (not in a 'I want to kill myself' way, just 'i don't feel like I can go on'). Husband thinks it's because there is a lot going on at the moment and I'm hoping this is the case. To be sure, I shall go to the doctors on Monday.

Has anyone else experienced this and it turned out to be stress? Or has anyone had PND?

Luckily I don't feel embarrassed to speak openly about it but I know lots of others do. I'm not a loon or a head case, I just don't feel right.

I know what might make me feel better though. A cuddle.

The Tantrum

What a rubbish week.

On Tuesday Lilian had her second set of jabs. She was in good spirits for most of the day and even managed to giggle at my friends half English/half Australian accent for half of the afternoon.

Then Wednesday arrived. Along with her first tantrum. Yes that's right, tantrum. In case you've just started reading this blog, my daughter is three months old. Not three years.

These tantrums have become part of her daily routine now. They consist of her clenching her fists and making a funny screaming sort of noise (think Nikki from Big Brother - possessed). My Mum said it's because she's teething but I think she needs exorcising. I've been complaining about these tantrums since they started until I was reminded that I should think about where they may have come from. Whatevs.

She is definitely my daughter.

H is for...

Handbags. I'm already searching for my AW11 one. I can't wait to start the new season, it so exciting and...

Hang on, I'm getting distracted.

H is for highchairs. Sigh. No longer will I spend hours in bed pouring over magazines trying to decide which one is going to be mine. Instead the beautiful leather pieces have been replaced by plastic and wood and all that.

It's boring. Trying to decide which one will be better for her. I'm sure she'd rather I looked at handbags. She will be inheriting them after all...

Obviously this made the week better...

No, not a new bag. I'm not that shallow.


Our first holiday as the perfect little family.

Er....or not.

We came home four days early. Mainly because she decided to play up. Obviously it isn't her fault she's teething, the poor cow. But it didn't make this week any easier. She didn't want to sleep in the travel cot, she didn't want her bottle, she didn't want Waybuloo or cuddles or to go in the car. She wanted to be held and held outside. She didn't want to smile. Only scream. So after one big row and lots of screaming (her and me but not me at her) we came home.

She's fine now. Still teething and still ratty but she wants all those things she didn't want up there.

Lilian - 1, The North - 0.