I don’t want a dog penis for a pillow.

So. Very. Tired.  I love my baby so much.  I love his multi chinned mega face and his chubby little thighs. I love it that he gives me enormous gummy smiles and now if I pull him by his arms ( as if they might pop out of the sockets ) he laughs manically.  I am beginning to wonder if he loves me back.  I know that he is growing, I expect he has decided that he needs yet another chin, but it is killing me slightly.  He does not temper the ferocity with which he hungrily attacks my nipples, they are a good and hardy sort that have not cracked or anything, but they need a few hours off a day and it is not happening enough for my liking.

He is nearly fifteen weeks old now.  He goes upstairs to bed at eight thirty and drifts off to sleep all by himself.  At twelve weeks  when we started this he would wake once at three a.m and sleep the rest of the night.  This week he has decided that he needs to wake at one, three, four, five, six and seven to then get up at nine thirty when lovely boyfriends’ alarms start going off.  Last night he decided to be awake.  Just awake.  Not especially hungry, not crying.  No, obviously the fluffy ones have been teaching him.  He was growling, and shouting and babbling ( I know this sound is supposed to swell my heart with maternal joy but in the middle of the night it really doesn’t)  LOUDLY.  So loud, not content to chat to himself he wanted to share his conversation.  I am in zombie night mode so assume that he was ready for his next round of slurpy nipple attack, nope.  Just wanted to have a chat.

By the time we have had our nocturnal discussion, my side being very much along the lines of “yes you are fascinating and very gorgeous but can we do this in the morning?” and his being ” GRRRRRR, RAWR!  RAWR! HURGLE FLERGLE BLLLLLLRRRRR (spit bubble) GRRRRRRRR!!!!  RAWR!! ( more bubbles) ARRRGGGGHHHHH!!! BLEGH! RAWR!” When I tried to return to my spot in the bed I could not quite fit in there any more.  Bandit has decided that he wants to sleep on my pillows, Opie where my body should be and Frankie, the smallest of the crew has star fished across the foot of the bed.  Now, not wanting to confuse the tiny human into thinking it was the shouting part of the day again I was trying to quietly demand that they all buggered off, without falling on my face due to exhaustion.  Opie and Frankie obediently, but some what stroppily gave in and resumed the top of the stairs spot that is allocated for them.  Bandit however was playing deaf.  Sneakily peeping at me through a tiny slit in one eye.  I gave up and used him as my pillow instead.  He is very fluffy, it was kind of working, the land of nod was within my grasp once more.

RAAAWWWWWRRRRRR!!!!!!!!  BRRRRRLLLLLLL!!!!!  GRRRRRRRRRRR!!!  ( rivulets of spit are gathering in his many chins) and then the sudden realisation ARRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH WAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!  Obviously he is now hungry.  More nipple chomping followed by a slightly sicky burp into my hair.

Another whispered treaty is established with two out of three of the dogs.  Bandit is now lying on his back on my pillow and there is no way that I am using the penis part of the dog as a pillow. I move him into a length ways position ( with much effort, he must weigh about seven stone )  he grunts huffily at me.  We spoon and start to go to sleep again.

HURGLE!  BRLRLRLRLRLRLRBBBBB!!  GRRRRRRR!!!!  Maybe a cuddle in the bed will state his conversational desires?  I place him on my tummy.  He is awake but silent.  Frankie sits on my legs.  Opie puts some of his face on my shoulder.  I realise that I am trapped and must stay alert as I don’t want either of them to stand on the baby or sit there licking the profuse amounts of ( must be super tasty ) saliva that comes out of the noisy void on the front of my child’s face.   Pins and needles in my feet.  Frankie is snoring.  Opie is dribbling on me too now.  Bandit is trying to roll over, obviously he just really needs to touch me with his doggy junk.  Like, he wont stop huffing and wiggling until it does.

WAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!  Hungry again.  I am however in a slightly trapped nightmare.  I manage to free up a boob and the baby decides to sweetly latch on and feed properly without taking in huge, noisy gulps of air.  He then drifts off to sleep.  I manage to free myself from the love pile and nearly face plant the wardrobe when I try to stand on my foot which is completely dead.  Baby stay asleep and is back in his crib.

Now I need a wee.  This is not good.  Normally that is the signal that I am getting up and it is time for doggie breakfast.  I try to stealth stagger in the bathroom.  I fail at stealth.  All dogs are in the bathroom, bright eyed and waggy tailed.  I concede and go downstairs.  I open the back door and as they rush out to complete morning ablutions ( do a wee and then wee on top of each others wee, leave me massive steamy piles in the lawn etc)  an icy blast of wintry wind smacks me in the face.  I may never achieve sleep again in my life after this shock.

I fill clinking metal bowls with biscuits and they greedily chow down whilst I wash up from the night before and make a cup of tea.

They are all asleep now.  ALL OF THEM.  Fucking bastards.


  1. BRILLIANT. Just brilliant. Utterly shit of course, but beautifully described.
    Re the baby sleep – meh. For me four months was when it got especially awful. Then nine months. Then thirteen months. Then eighteen. #justsayin


  2. Aimee, I felt like I was reading the opening of a novel, this is so atmospheric and emotive – wow! I have neither dogs or babies, so I can’t empathise from that respect, I hope that the cuteness of the puppy and your other dogs outweighs the lack of sleep!


  3. Oh how the dog part of this is so very real for me! I know they are the best thing since sliced bread but to add a baby to the mix does terrify me! X


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