Why It Pays To Be A Pessimist

The Baby and The Boyfriend on holiday

We are half way through the week that I’ve been dreading for… oh, about a month now. I’ve had countless sleepless nights caused by the panic of spending a whole week with an over-tired, unhappy, unsettled Baby, which in turn have produced an over-tired, unhappy and unsettled Mummy. The lead-up to this week away has been pretty awful, to say the least.
But guess what?

It’s been great!

The day we arrived, after unpacking I put The Baby in her travel cot. There was 30 minutes of screaming and sobbing, and then suddenly silence. I watched the clock, waiting for the next bout of wall-shaking screeching to start. 5 minutes went past. 15 minutes went past. There was no screaming. I crept upstairs, and peered through the banister rails: she was fast asleep.

I looked at The Boyfriend in amazement. How was this possible? It’s a fluke, I said. Don’t get used to things being this easy; tonight will be a completely different story.

It wasn’t. After a bath in the kitchen sink, which The Baby LOVED (the cold tap is apparently a great teether) and a bottle while watching Waybuloo, I took her up to bed where she turned to snuggle up to Bunny and fell straight to sleep.

We have had 4 nights here, and each night has been just that simple.

The afternoons, as they are at home, have been a little more tricky, but within half an hour of going down The Baby is sleeping like, well, a baby.

She is not the miserable, grizzling, exhausted (exhausting) little bundle I had expected to be holidaying with.

Oh, plus she has learned to pull herself to her feet by clinging onto the hands or arms of either myself or The Boyfriend. And she shows us just how very proud of herself she is each time she clambers to her unsteady, wobbly little feet, by grinning a huge toothy grin and squealing with delight.

She has also (after nearly 3 months of daily perseverance) finally mastered the art of drinking water from a cup. She won’t drink from a spouted-beaker, as the spout is just used to relieve teething pains. Up until now she was master of blowing bubbles in the water, scraping her teeth against the side of the cup, and (my personal favourite) spitting a mouthful of water down her front / over the high-chair table / over the floor. Drinking from the cup also makes her grin like a Cheshire cat.

It also turns out that packing for a week away is actually not much different to packing for a weekend away. It’s just the size of the suitcase for clothes that has increased. So that was a bonus too, especially as The Boyfriend bought a new, much smaller car only a few weeks ago. I had been envisaging there being only enough room for a carrier bag of clothes and each night being spent hand-washing for three.

And the weather! It’s been sunny and actually warm all week. No gale-force winds, no torrential rain, just proper holiday weather.

So you see, all these negative little thoughts and predictions I’d had about his week have done me good, as nothing could have been as bad as what was going on in my head. Every time The Baby sleeps or smiles or laughs feels like a huge victory, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Think the worst, and it probably won’t ever be that bad.

I do think the box of Hardy’s has been a big help though.


Filed under The (Dummy) Mummy, The Girl

11 Responses to Why It Pays To Be A Pessimist

  1. Rachael

    So glad that the holiday was a success xx

  2. I always expect the worse, its far better to do that and be pleasantly surprised then to expect everything to be amazing and be disappointed!

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