Baby Jesus's birthday party.

"Mummy, what happens on Christmas Day?" asked Mini yesterday..

"Well darling, we have lots of lovely food to eat, and nice things to drink. We play silly games, open presents and have a cake."

Long silence.

"Like a birthday party then Mummy?"

"Yes darling, I s'pose so... sort of"

Long silence.

"Oh I know... It's Baby Jesus's birthday party isn't it?"

"Errrrr.. yes I suppose it is."

Just one of the priceless conversations I have had with my daughters these past few weeks.

The run up to Christmas in our house has basically involved:

- very bad present wrapping due to lack of more than a few minutes to be able to wrap anything.

- Not helped by buying very cheap and nasty wrapping paper from Tesco which rips as soon as you try to wrap anything.

- a dead Christmas tree that cost £50. Never EVER let your man buy the tree.. That is one quarter of the cost of the wallet that I want from Mulberry for Christmas.. Grrrr.

- Hoovering the thick coating of needles that now covers our carpet, presents, furniture twice daily.

- Bribing my children with chocolates, presents, the risk of Santa not turning up etc in order to get them to behave or do what I want them to do. How mean am I?

- Trying to stay awake through Christmas party drinks when I've been up since 5am.

- Actually turning up at Christmas party drinks.

- Actually, who am I kidding? I haven't been to any Christmas party drinks. I even blew out the neighbours three doors away last night due to exhaustion.

- Getting very excited about Strictly final despite Ali going out (gutted).

- Watching the Strictly final with my au pair.. (husband out on lash - again). I actually am quite pleased that Chris Hollins won.

- Trying to keep my head above water and not shout too much with three children at home.

- Going on my one Christmas night out and spending the whole evening talking about Ringworm, worms, head lice and nits - and how to treat them.

Oh Joy!

Home sweet home..

There's nothing to quite focus the mind with children than a good old fashioned emergency trip to A & E. Just when you think everything is going relatively smoothly and you are feeling a bit more normal..

BAM...,out of nowhere you get a curveball thrown at you..

Cub woke up on Friday morning with a slight rash on her face and neck. She was in good spirits so I didn't think much of it. Slight temperature so Calpol administered.. Heck this is my third child and I could predict the GP's response. "Virus, calpol" etc.

So I didn't take her in. She continued to be fine all through the day - feeding, sleeping, chirpy but definitely hot and the rash seemed to spread.

I finally called the doctor early afternoon and the drama commenced.

Cut to 5.30pm and I am sitting in paediatric A & E with two doctors holding down my screaming child, tears pouring down my face as I am told that we will be admitted indefinitely.. various doctors were saying things at me like 'septic screen', 'lumbar puncture', 'meningitis', 'iv drip', 'measles' etc etc. I slipped into a sort of dream like state as I sat cuddling Cub with all these tubes sticking out her waiting for someone to tell me what the hell was going on.

And there I was moaning about a bit of sleep deprivation.. never again.

The logistics of re-organising family life when you have to stay overnight in hospital are unreal. I think the doctor thought I was heartless as I sat with the baby in one hand and my mobile glued to my ear or texting furiously to organise back up for the other two at home. Typically the Ballerina was off that night, my husband was working on a huge new business pitch and my mother was having a dinner party. Finally I got through to mum and just told her to sort it out so that I could concentrate on the baby.. But stress levels were through the roof on all sides.

Fast forward a few hours and I am lying wide awake on a surprisingly comfy cot bed watching my tiny baby lying in a huge white metal cot, her skin now brick red and boiling. The sounds of a hospital at night are astonishing.. sick babies surrounded us and wailed or coughed like old men. Monitors beeped, cleaners hoovered, nurses called to each other. It never actually went quiet or got dark. I did drop off only to be woken by Cub's monitor beeping as her line fell out.. This went on for an hour.. every time I dropped off the bloody thing beeped and I had to call the nurse to put it back in. It took sleep deprivation to a whole new level.

She was pumped full of so many anti biotics her wee smelt like paint stripper.. but the good news is that it wasn't meningitis, measles, scarlet fever or any other nasties. And despite being told that we may have to stay in for THREE OR FOUR DAYS (gulp) we were actually discharged on Saturday afternoon. (Thank god as you have to pay to watch telly after 7pm and I was devastated at the thought of not being able to watch Strictly - shallow but true).

When we got home I promised someone up high never to complain again. My little girl is now just about alright and rash free.. and we are re-united as a family. But my heart aches for those babies on that ward who are there for months on end, there for Christmas and whose mums and dads go home every night leaving them all alone. There was one baby who cried pretty much all the time.. she was tiny and I just wanted to go and pick her up and give her a cuddle. The nurses seemed to ignore her but probably because she is there for so long and they can't pick her up all the time.

So, all back to normal now and our little stay c/o of the NHS is over.

And sleepless nights? - a walk in the park now..

Hitting the bottle.

I've had someone in to do the odd night for me with Cub. EG sleep in the same room and do the night feeds. And what has transpired is that she is a strapping great big whopper who is taking a gigantic eight fluid ounces of milk a feed. To any mum or dad who has experienced feeding a baby they will know that this is A LOT for a two month old. My girl is off the charts (literally) in her red book (again, something if you have kids you will know all about).

As my mum describes it, I have a huge great big baby and I am slowly but surely - shrinking. As I clearly don't have eight fluid ounces in me, I am with much regret throwing in the towel on breast feeding.

I just can't cope with feeding every two hours through the night which is what I am currently doing. She is just too hungry and enjoys using mummy's bosom as a pillow so much that she conks out way before she's had enough, thus waking up bright and breezy two hours later demanding more.

My husband and I are on our knees.

The other two kids just don't get why I am always so grumpy and tired, so I think enough is enough.

I feel sad.

This is my last babe and I won't ever have the privilege of feeding my baby again. Breast feeding is a highly emotive subject. As I sat in the GP's surgery with Mini waiting to be called for her jabs I noticed a sign advertising 'Breast feeding support groups' on the wall.

My first reaction was one of cynicism.. 'Support group' I snorted to myself.. for god's sake it's hardly heroin addiction. But as I have reached the conclusion that I can no longer sustain my little girl's needs, I realise that I am very emotional about it and feel a strange mixture of relief, sadness, discomfort, guilt and a whole myriad of other things. But I realise that the health and happiness of my marriage and my family is more important and I have to remove myself from the emotion of the situation and be pragmatic.

My ex-maternity nurse who has been doing a few nights is - interestingly - very anti breast feeding.. but she is of the generation where all babies were bottle fed and she likes to do the feeding herself. I was always rather resentful of this and felt bullied by her to stop. I didn't stop and persevered far longer with my first two. But with the first one I could spend an hour or more at each feed gazing lovingly at my perfect little bundle. Even with number two, Bush Daddy could take the big girl off and leave me to the baby..

But this one? Forget it.. I don't think I've spent more than fifteen minutes on any one feed.. there's always a nose to wipe, or a bottom.. or a zip to undo or a spag bol to make or homework to check or a book to read or a TV channel to change or a shoe to put on. And I can't make them wait.. but the baby somehow always has to, poor little thing.

No wonder she's glugging huge eight ounce bottles now.. she must be STARVING. So I begin the painful, emotional few days of letting my milk go..

.. but at least I'll get a bit more kip.

And get my family back on track.

Happy advent.

I have crumbled and bought the big girls chocolate advent calendars. Something I swore that I would NEVER EVER do. The thought of chocolate before 8am makes my skin crawl.

But you know what? This year.. all bets are off. I am too tired to argue. Senior went to a party the other day and the going home present was a 'Hello Kitty' chocolate advent calendar. So of course I then had to buy one for Mini.

This morning by the time I got downstairs they had demolished their first chocolate and to my dismay there isn't even a bloody picture when you open the little door.. just a gaping hole where the chocolate was.. Even worse than I thought.

Cub has a proper old fashioned one.. with nativity pictures and it reveals lines from the nativity story. Very charming. Very old school. The girls are taking turns to open her windows for her.

And then when I came down last night after putting everyone to bed, I found this hanging in the kitchen. It seems my darling au pair has yet another string to her bow. When she was out til 1am the other night at her friend's house sewing, it turns out she was making this (see above). It has a little bag for each day of advent, each containing two pieces of jigsaw puzzle - one for each child - which completes by Christmas Eve.

How utterly charming is that? All home made. Not a commercial bone or a chocolate in sight. And strangely the girls are far more excited about this one than the Madagascar and Hello Kitty monstrosities, which goes to show that children aren't TOTALLY motivated by chocolate all of the time..

Do we need to build an ark?

My eldest daughter drew this picture yesterday when she, Bush Daddy, granny and Mini tried to take the baby out for a walk to get her to go to sleep.

Hilarious.

They got as far as the car when the heaven's opened and they all trooped back inside again.

And me?

I was upstairs, blissfully unaware, having a much needed kip.

Windy miller..

I was sitting on my friend Pippy's sofa today changing Cub's nappy and generally chatting about the highs and lows of full time motherhood.. oh how our full time working sisters have it easy we decided..

Suddenly there was a very loud 'parp'. We looked at each other in shock, simultaneously mouthing each other's names in horror.. and then as a really rather violent smell wafted up from my beautiful cooing gurgling little treasure lying between us, we both burst out laughing..

Yup, I have created a true 'guffer'.

My youngest daughter is no lady when it comes to bodily functions.

She farts.. a lot.

And they are very smelly. But as luck would have it my friend Pippy then looked thoughtfully at her rather bad cradle cap and promptly reeled off some long complicated latin name at me.. She was in fact prescribing a food supplement for the babe as it would appears she has 'naughty' bacteria living in her gut which are causing both the bad smells and the cradle cap.

Now my friend Pippy is a nutritionist and is always helping me out with my kids' various health issues such as constipation, dry skin, eczema etc etc.. but I never REALLY REALLY knew what she did in that way that you quite often don't realise what your close friends or your husband or your dad actually do for a living.

It turns out that she basically - gets women pregnant.

Sounds weird I know, but she is in fact a fertility nutritionist and specialises in helping women who can't conceive. She then went on to explain to me some of the various reasons why women don't get pregnant and as she explained my jaw dropped further and further into my lap..

For example did you know that you shouldn't use cordless telephones in your house as they emit radio waves (or something like that) which can affect your egg production?

Equally you shouldn't use tin foil or cling film on food as they apparently emit heavy metals that are absorbed into food and are highly toxic (mental note to self, start wrapping Senior's sandwiches in greaseproof paper).

You should keep some special kind of plant (can't remember the name but spider plants also serve the same purpose) next to your computer as it absorbs whatever it is that computers give off that are toxic.. and you should keep your mobile phone at a distance from you when not using it - and ideally not use it at all..

It was amazing and shocking how many every day items are potentially dangerous to one's health and if relevant, one's fertility.

Fascinating.. although obviously completely irrelevant to me. I am checking in for the 'snip' soon.

However, if you are trying for a baby and it doesn't seem to be working then talk to Pippy at www.thefertilitydetective.co.uk

A light!

Bush Mummy is up, dressed, fed and raring to go writing her blog at 9.20am.

'Why?' you ask?

Because my little tinker had her 8 week jabs yesterday, and I think the shock of them knocked her out. She went to bed at 6.30pm last night and slept til 3am, waking briefly for a feed before conking out again until 7am this morning.

YIPPPEEEE!

And she's gone back to sleep now.

I feel - vaguely - normal.