Rough Night
Remember when having just three hours sleep meant you'd had a great night out? And it's fine because you can just chill out the next day?
After having kids it's more often the mark of a rough night in, and the following day you have to be responsible for at least one small person.
Last night was one such rough night. The Kid was up for hours on end. Other half had to drive to petrol station at 3am to stock up on supplies.
No temperature, no obvious pain, just awake and crying, with a snotty nose that no amount of Olbas would clear.
I've been up since about 6am, and right now all I can do is sit, and stare and the now happy and lively Kid, while he rifles through my purse, praying he can't undo the zip that holds the loose change. I'll be cursing myself later when I'm in a shop and there's no sign of my cards.
I don't care that the floor is strewn with £1.49's worth of baby wipes. Letting him quietly demolish the living room is worth it, as long as I don't have to move.
The only thing that's keeping me going is thinking about bedtime. The mantra that will get me through today is: "I'm going to go to bed at half eight. I'm going to go bed at half eight. I'm going to go to bed at half eight..."
Only another ten hours to go. (And counting.)
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Laura Yates
Brummie mum Laura Yates is a 27 year old mother of two from Kings Heath. She gives her take on family life in the city.
It's a strange experience shopping at 3am when it's for baby milk rather than a kebab.
I remember my first late-night-shop in Sainsbury's Maypole.
A tub of baby milk under my arm, a pack of dummies and my wallet in my hand, I wandered over to the kiosk.
"Awwww," the clerk said, looking at what I was about to buy. "Bless. How old?"
"Twenty-five," I wanted to say...