Had the first good night of sleep in weeks. Last night Sofia went to sleep by 8.30 and I was in bed  by 9.30. A huge achievement. I haven’t been asleep before 11 pm in nearly a month. Whenever I’ve had difficult moments with motherhood it’s always been Sofia not sleeping well and in turn-me not sleeping well. Now I’ve gone back to clock-watching my routine because everything was getting moved out of whack. Her sleep affected when she ate affected when she napped affected when she’d go to bed at night. So hopefully I’m claiming it back.

Today I feel the most rested that I’ve been in weeks yet I’m feeling slightly lost. I’ve been in survival mode for the past month where I was just treading water and doing the absolute minimum that I had to do. Now that I’m actually feeling energetic there’s a house that needs significant attention, but I’m at a loss where to start. Hopefully next week will be a better week.

Working on a deadline to finish a project by the end of the month so blogging is on the bottom of the priority list.

My best friend had a baby girl Alannah on Wednesday 15 July. It was such a beautiful birth and so quick so that I was able to be there for most of it. So my little Sofia has a playmate and hopefully our two little girls will be good friends the way we are.

Peace out.

Been a tough week. Sofia was really unsettled last week. Was going through a growth spurt so waking up during the night a few times for feeds, which completely threw me out. Was hoping that things would settle down this week. They did for Sunday night, but now she’s teething.

Also my best friend is in labour. She’s been in labour since Friday. Her contractions started 23 minutes apart and are slowly getting shorter and shorter. Hopefully it will happen within the next 24 hours. So last night even when I had the chance to sleep I was too wired and thinking about her. She was at my labour and I want to be there for her, but with the baby attached to my boob I’ll be limited in my mobility. I haven’t wanted to think about it too much and just been waiting to see how it all pans out.

I made some resolutions last week and achieved them, which I was stoked about. Realised that I waste a lot of time on crappy television so I now have it turned off all day and only watch television in the evening. Amazing how much more you get done without the tv distracting you. When I need some noise to fill in the silence I turn on the radio.

I’ve started transcribing my notebooks. Was getting some momentum but the lack of sleep threw a spanner in the works. So this week I’m going to get stuck into it regardless of how tired I am. If I wait for a good time, it just doesn’t happen. You just have to get into it and even if it’s one page, then it’s something done.

Had some other profound thoughts I was going to share, but I’m so tired. Going back to sleep now that the bebe is down again. For however long, at least it will get me through a few more hours.

I hate cliffhanger season finales., but last night’s episode of Private Practice is atrocious. I feel so manipulated and angry. Violet-who is a psychiatrist is treating a mentally ill patient whose baby dies during pregnancy. So Violet keeps treating her even though she is pregnant herself and the patient has expressed her anger-which would never happen in the real world-the patient gets fixated on Violet and starts believing that the child she is carrying is actually her baby. So she drugs Violet with the plan to cut the baby out of her body. The last scene is her starting the incision-and that’s it, lights out, the end.

What the hell? How is this a good cliffhanger? Yes, I am emotionally involved and I want to know what happens, but I’m also betrayed and disappointed. As a writer you have to walk a fine line between keeping the viewer/reader interested, but also not pushing them away by overplaying your hand. We’ve all seen what happened with Lost when viewers turned on the writers because they dragged out the mystery too much and didn’t give them pay off (not that I watch Lost but I read the articles about it with interest). And I feel like Private Practice has gone too far.

The image of a baby being cut out of a Mum’s body is horrific. Unfortunately it also has a basis in reality. I remembered this news story about this and just did a google search and am horrified by how many stories there are about women cutting out babies from pregnant women they murdered. So now I can’t get this image out of my head. Now that I’m a mother I really get worked up by anything to do with kids. That story about the python strangling a little girl has completely freaked me out. This is where being a writer really works against you because I get these vivid images and just feel sick.

So I’m really angry with Private Practice and think I’m going to give it the flick after I watch the cliffhanger resolve next season-or find an answer on the internet. I also don’t like Addison’s character. The whole storyline about her falling in love with a pregnant patient’s husband is gross. Such a violation of trust in so many ways, completely immoral and considering she’s an adulterer herself shows how shallow she is. But then again it is consistent with her character-being of loose morals and arrogant in believing she can do whatever and damn the consequences. Yes, I’m really pissed at the whole show and now every single thing about it annoys me. Like Del switching embryos and not getting fired-yeah.

I’m also angry because Grey’s Anatomy is going to do the same thing to me next week, but at least I’m prepared and I’m not fussed about Isabel living or dieing. As long as there’s no babies involved-whatever.

On the baby front-she’s doing a new noise that’s driving me crazy. She makes this wheezing sound when she’s going to sleep that is freaking me out. I keep running in to check on her and can’t relax until she’s asleep. She’s not ill-no temperature or change in behaviour and last night we took her to the doctor to check her lungs because it was too freaky-but I’m really cranky about it. Going to try and catch some sleep now that she’s asleep.