On the surface, I'm calmly hushing into the ear of my two-month-old. He's not a crier and right now he is screaming the house down. My two-year-old is tugging at my legs looking for treats. It's ten o'clock and I've already had my daily coffee. It's going to be a tough day. 



We started the day in the normal "newborn" way. Ready to get out the door but having to turn back twice. First, to change clothes and not for fashion reasons, I haven't ever been fashionable, but much less now since I have kids. Secondly because of the baby deciding he urgently needed another feed. So we were late. Thankfully, I am well used to this and have learnt that honest stories of spit-up, poo explosions, and yet another feed, gets you off the hook.  


During the administration of the vaccines, there were some tears, mine, and screams, his.


Inside I was already panicking. What has just gone into his system? Could he be one of the unfortunate babies that has an extreme reaction? What have I done?! I am afraid of giving vaccinations but I'm also afraid not to give them.


On the surface, I'm still. I'm in my swan mode. Calmly sailing through the day while beneath the surface I'm frantically paddling.



The house is quickly looking like a twister had come through the door. A bored toddler will have that effect. The louder the babies screams, the more ridiculous the toddler's demands. Fast forward to 4 o clock. The baby has been screaming crying since 1.30 and by now my swan look is more like a haggard pigeon.


I call the doctors and they tell me to come back in. The panic kicks in and everyone is rushed into the car.


He falls asleep in the car seat and I arrive at the surgery looking like I've been dragged through a hedge backwards. The screaming newborn I described on the phone? Yup, he is now a sleeping angel. Typical!


Everything was fine as it usually is. 


What about you? Can you relate?

Michelle Greaves: mum of two boys, writer, photographer, traveller, secondary school teacher.

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