Every dog has his day

When you introduce your baby to your dog there are few things the experts tell you to do. Things you might not think of like taking a singlet with the baby's smell on it so the dog can get used to it the day before the meeting, and also the ones that are pretty obvious, like making sure the dog is restrained and hasn't been fed any baby-shaped snacks recently to avoid confusion.

Hubby and I have a beautiful Belgian Shepherd (Malinois) cross called Sprocket, named after the dog in the '80's Jim Henson TV show, Fraggle Rock. We rescued him from the animal shelter when he was about six months old. He'd been found wandering the streets weighing next to nothing with all his ribs sticking out and a few very suspicious scars on him that look like he might have been burnt.

So we took him home, fattened him up and still to this day marvel how a dog that was so badly treated in his early days has such a beautiful nature. Nothing upsets Sprocket (other than when you stop playing fetch and he looks at you like “Why are you stopping? We were having so much fun!”

Of course, being young he is still highly excitable and prone to jumping up on people, especially if he hasn't seen them in a while. So we were unsure how such a hyperactive dog would handle an infant being around.

When I was in hospital Sprocket was a little out of sorts because he wasn't getting his nightly cuddles – you see he has an old couch out the back that he lays on until he gets his cuddles, then we say “Off to bed” and he gets up and goes in to his kennel. But without his nightly cuddle... he just stayed on the couch. And it was freezing, the poor thing! Tricky wasn't even home yet and Sprocket was a bit put out.

On introducing them to each other Hubby held on tight to Sprocket's collar and I lowered Tricky slightly so that he wouldn't jump up on us. We were braced for a lunge of excitement and energy... but what we got was some sniffing, an attempted lick and then he tried to go get his ball. Anti climax. Completely disinterested! And it has continued this way since. On the few occasions he is allowed inside (Sprocket that is, Tricky is allowed inside quite a bit) the same thing has happened – a bit of sniff, a lick of the toes and then on to something else. Whilst I know it isn't a green light to leave the two alone together, or even let my guard down when they're near each other, it is a massive weight off my shoulders.

I think as Tricky gets older he and Sprocket will be best of friends - let's just hope that Sprocket's laid back attitude continues... does anyone know what the smallest size saddle you can buy is?

My other beautiful boy, Sprocket

I don't think you're ready for this jelly

Early on in my pregnancy I started to rub my belly, not because I had any real sense of attachment to the growing bub yet (he was still quite alien looking at that point) but because my swelling tum could easily be mistaken for flab and short of wearing a shirt that said “Not fat, pregnant” it was the best thing I could think of to make myself feel less frumpy. I'd lean back, stick out my tum and rub it, hoping that the people walking past didn't think I was nursing a stomach full of Hungry Jack's (in reality I'm sure no one walking past looked at me or even cared).

As time wore on and I could no longer be mistaken for a prize heifer the belly rubbing became affectionate. Most of the time I wouldn't even realise I was doing it. It became second nature to place my hands on the little shelf that had developed and give it a little pat, even talk to it. I was bonding with Tricky (even if he didn't know it) each time I did it. When Hubby would touch my belly I would love it, especially if he could feel Tricky's kicks or hiccups.

But now? Tricky is out and the majority of the tum is gone, but there is still quite a bit of jelly belly action going on - and I don't mean the yummy flavoured jelly bean variety. This itself is not my problem – I'm fully aware that it can take a looong time to get back in to your pre-baby jeans and some women never do. The problem is the habit of rubbing it is still there so I am now affectionately rubbing my verandah of stretched skin. Highly attractive. I'm just waiting for someone to ask me when I'm due... “No I'm not pregnant, I'm just patting my own flab.”

Zzzzzzz

Let's for a minute discuss the phrase “sleeping like a baby”. It's used to describe a peaceful, deep sleep that you wake from feeling refreshed and ready to go. How on earth this came about is beyond me because now that I have a baby I know they don't sleep like that at all. A newborn wakes every two to four hours for a feed and when this is over there is always a bit of time to crap their pants and spit up a bit of milk. Screaming your lungs out because you've soiled yourself doesn't normally make it's way in to the “sleeping like a baby” image. These are what my nights (and days) are like right now.

Hubby is amazing. In the middle of the night after Tricky has been fed it is Super Dad who changes him and settles him back to sleep – or at least tries to – Tricky has his “witching hour” normally at 4:00am. No amount of nappy changes, singing, patting, rocking or cooing seems to settle him. Then just as suddenly as it all started... silence. Whatever was ailing him passes and he drifts back off to sleep making cute little snorty noises. The cuteness doesn't get rid of the bags under my eyes though, which are now too big for a standard cabin size and must be checked through to the cargo hold.

We are taking comfort in the fact that this stage doesn't last forever. His stomach is currently the size of a walnut and he can only have a little bit to drink before he is full to the brim. Add to this that breastmilk is so easily digestible that it can pass completely through his tiny little system in just over half an hour and you have a recipe for really frequent feeds! Soon though it will expand and the time between feeds will gradually lengthen. Which means I will be able to sleep for more than 45minutes at a time. Pure bliss!

As tired as I am, I cannot get angry at my little Tricky. He doesn't know what is happening – doesn't know what the pain in his tiny little tummy means, doesn't know that the hand pulling out his dummy is his own (yes, I'm a terrible mother who gave her child a dummy – we call it his plug). At this age the only way he can communicate that there is some sort of discomfort is by crying. I try to remember that no matter how frustrating it is for me to not be able to comfort him and get no sleep, how frustrating must it be for him? The poor little tacker is still getting used to this big world.

In the not too distant past, at time like this a dummy was dipped in whiskey to help junior off to the land of nod... turns out though that some people still do this – a woman in the United States has just been sentenced to eight years in prison for giving a nine month old she was babysitting a sippy cup full of wine to help the little boy go to sleep. Whilst it is not something I would choose to do, I can actually understand why some people would dip a dummy in alcohol, but how this chick thought an entire cup full of wine would be anything other than extremely dangerous is beyond me. The little boy had a blood alcohol reading of .33 – that is SIX TIMES the legal driving limit in Australia!!! According to Wikipedia, readings of .35 and above are associated with coma and death and 50% of cases reaching 0.40 will prove fatal. In my mind what makes this worse is that the woman was only in charge of the child and his siblings for five hours – she had not endured days or weeks of a screaming child. How could you be so impatient with such a tiny, innocent creature?

So I've had my rant and thanks, I feel a bit better. I will continue to have sleepless nights for a while but it could be much worse. I have a healthy baby, a supportive family more than willing to cuddle Tricky for a few hours so I can have a nap, and a wonderful husband who does not “babysit” - he cares for his child. I'm luckier than a lot of people out there, and that thought gets me through... well that and a bit of chocolate.

What got you through the sleepless nights?

Got milk? Got munchies!

Everyone knows that pregnant women get cravings and the more bizarre the food combination the better. Other than two weeks of wanting a cheeseburger for breakfast, lunch and dinner I didn't really have any “I MUST EAT THIS NOW OR I WILL DIE” cravings that I'd heard other people talk about. The ones where you have to send your partner to the service station at 2:00am to buy up half the store only to be asleep by the time he comes home, tired as a dog. But now I'm experiencing a different type of food craving – of the I MUST EAT EVERYTHING IN THE HOUSE NOW OR I WILL DIE” variety.

Breast milk takes a lot of calories to produce and the hunger I'm feeling is overwhelming. Heaven forbid I skip a meal because, oh I don't know, there is a screaming child needing my attention, boy do I know about it! No food is safe around me, even the healthy stuff that tastes horrible is inhaled instantly the moment I set eyes on it. On a side note it is very strange to be gorging myself on every available piece of food and be losing weight at the same time – whilst I know it's just decreasing blood volume and all that jazz, it's still pretty cool.

My night time routine now involves catering not only for Tricky's hunger, but my own. Before bed I get ready in the usual PJ's, brushing of teeth way but now there is a final step before snuggling down in to my pillows... I have to restock my bedside table, or as I now refer to it, the snack bar. Muesli bars, fun size Milky Ways, bananas, sultanas and more. Each time after Tricky has had his feed and is settled back to sleep the real feast begins! I try to be really quiet so as not to wake Hubby but it's a task I'm failing miserably at – it's just like opening a packet of chips when you're in the cinema during a really quiet bit in the movie, you know the packet doesn't really make that much noise but in the silence it is DEAFENING! So the crumple and crackle of my muesli bar wrapper, not to mention the munching and crunching of the muesli bar itself, are adding to Hubby's sleep deprivation. I could go to the kitchen but it's winter and unless the bed is on fire I'm not getting out – why be hungry and cold?

I did try eating at the same time I fed Tricky, but felt guilty when I looked down to see his little head covered in crumbs and then felt even worse when I was picking them off and eating them and realised I looked just like a mother chimp picking off lice. Perhaps it is my punishment for wondering if Tricky would look like a monkey when he was born?

How did you handle the breastfeeding munchies?

Chop chop!

One thing I didn't expect when we brought Tricky home was to be questioned by nearly every visitor over the age of 50, it seemed, as to whether or not we were going to get him circumcised. None of the midwives asked me. The paediatrician didn't ask either. It seems to go in and out of fashion (unless you're Jewish in which case it's always in) and people my parents' age are all for it. Did our younger visitors not ask because they don't care, they felt uncomfortable, or did they think it none of their business? Ooh let's hope they chose door number three, Susie, let's see what they've won!

It was mentioned at antenatal classes, but only to say that it is not routinely done unless there is a medical or religious reason. One thing that I know for sure though, is that it is a touchy subject with people falling very clearly in to the cut or don't cut categories – there are no fence sitters in this debate.

I hadn't even looked in to it, Hubby and I had a two second chat sometime during the pregnancy that went “You don't want to circumcise him do ya?” “Nah, don't like the idea.” End of conversation. If he wants it done when he is older then it is up to him – just like when he decides to get a piercing or tattoo or whatever the cool thing is 17 years from now. Turns out though that if we had wanted to, there may have been some hurdles... cosmetic circumcision (when there is no medical or religious reason behind the procedure) has been banned in all Australian public hospitals since 2007. And a research paper from the Queensland Law Reform Commission concluded that "On a strict interpretation of the assault provisions of the Queensland Criminal Code, routine circumcision of a male infant could be regarded as a criminal act", and that doctors who perform the procedure may in fact be able to be sued by the child at a later date. There is a legal precedent for botched circumcisions in Australia thanks to a Perth man who successfully sued the doctor who operated on him as an infant, but this interpretation of the law allows for men to sue the doctor even if the circumcision is deemed 'successful'. I had no idea about any of this – and wish I had when everyone had been asking me last week if we were going to do it or not!

My opinion (and yes I'm opening the door for abuse here) is completely opposite to that of my parents. I believe we have evolved over millions of years to have that little piece of skin there, and who am I to say that nature got it wrong and have it lopped off? There are websites galore for both sides each claiming that their stance is the correct one. They tout statistics on infections, sexually transmitted diseases, loss of sensation and more. I'm not ready to think about my little Tricky all grown up and having sex so I'm quite happy to stop at the “It's an operation and operations hurt” argument. Some people will say I'm wrong and they're more than welcome to feel that way – we'll just have to agree to disagree, hopefully while cooing over how cute each others' son is (for the record, Tricky is pretty cute so your kid is gonna have to try to be super special when I meet him).

Do you feel strongly on this subject? Were you criticised for your decision - no matter which decision it was? Leave your story in the comments section below.