Minor triumphs

Currently my life feels sufficiently out of control, that I am prepared to celebrate even the most minor victory. To put things in perspective, even my builders are now making fun of my incoherence and inability to make decisions. I had to send an email apologising for my deranged witterings over the weekend. (This was because I had realised that my impression that the roof had been put on at a different, lower height, was simply wrong. It's exactly where it used to be. So asking them why it was lower just made me look like the Crazy Lady.)

However, back to the minor triumphs...

Last Thursday, and again on Monday, BigBear and I went out. We went Out-out, for our respective Christmas dinners. LittleBear had babysitters both nights. Babysitters who had to tuck him up in bed and say goodnight. LittleBear did not have a sobbing meltdown. LittleBear was happy, and went peacefully to sleep, without upset. What was the secret of our success? I think I can put it down to two things...

1. I involved LittleBear in the process of discussing and choosing who he would like to babysit for him. He was absolutely clear that it needed to be someone who could cuddle him if necessary, which translates to it needing to be a "Mummy", who is capable of Mummy-cuddles should the need arise. We now have a short-list of four Mummies who are deemed The Right Sort of Mummy. Fortunately all four of them have expressed a willingness to trade babysitting duties, so I'm vaguely hopeful that we may be able to set up some kind of bartering-for-favours system, allowing BigBear and I to go out more than once a year.

2. Bribery. I promised LittleBear a packet of MatchAttax cards if he was good for each babysitter. First thing he's said to me in the morning when he's bounced into bed has been, "I was good Mummy, can I have MatchAttax cards?"

Our second minor triumph is that the cat has defecated in his litter tray. I have never been so happy to see cat poo in my life. Clearly valerian root and vetiver have a profound effect upon a sense of feline wellbeing, as he is now happy to sprawl in his usual spot on the sofa, legs wafting in the air, belly exposed, with apparently not a care in the world.

Just at the moment, I'm taking my victories where I find them.