It seemed like a good idea at the time...

...but what on earth possessed me to do it?

I am living in a country where the bakers are great, the bread is great, there are great kebab places, you can get yummy fish sandwiches from the fishmongers, freshly grilled sausage sandwiches from the bakers and yet, and yet - I still decided to go to SUBWAY for lunch? And not only did I buy a sandwich from there but I ATE IN too!!

Surely I should have been put off from the very outset by all the daft questions they wanted to ask me about my sandwich - so, I want Teriyaki chicken on what sort of bread with what sort of (tasteless) cheese and do I want it toasted or not and what bits of (production line) salad and what sort of (gloopy MSG) sauce (to go with your chicken marinaded in gloopy MSG sauce). I chose the most German bread they had with seeds and rye (so why didn't I go the bakers?) and just kind of said yes to everything and picked out the first in the list of all the other options. It was cheaper to get a 'meal' apparently. So I got a 'meal'. That's 30cm of bread and gunk, a huge paper cup of coke and a packet of crisps. Sitting down to eat at the smeary formica tables scented with eau de dirty dishcloth accompanied by piped supermarket music and surrounded by lovely close-up pictures of tomatoes didn't cost me a cent extra! Wow! Glad I stayed!

The problem with Subway (for me) is that it's neither junk food nor is it healthy so basically it presses no buttons whatsoever and as I was slurping my way through the wet, tasteless sandwich filling I occupied myself by mentally writing this blog of regret. I knew it would come the moment I spilled the first drop of sweet onion gloop onto my trousers. Please, please remind me that I don't like Subway and although I am full, I would really like a proper lunch now please.

The joys of fertility treatment with a toddler in tow

So, to add to the difficulties of somewhat disturbed nights, we have decided to start trying for a brother or sister for little Maximilian.

I have to say that I never remember it being quite this traumatic. The main memories I have of the four and a half years we tried to get pregnant was failure upon failure. From quite early on, you feel as though need to mourn each failed attempt. That's an awful lot of grief. And then, of course, there was the overwhelming joy of it finally working and the resulting rollercoaster of motherhood so far.

This time, however, we haven't been so desperate for a positive result. Hopeful, of course. But not desperate. So, not being so focused on the result has meant that I have really felt the ups and downs of the procedure.

Firstly, there was the logistics of what to do with Max. We didn't want him to spend too much time away from his Mama or his Mummy so he kind of got juggled between the two of us and between England and Germany which he didn't really like too much. And neither did I. Of course we both liked spending time with family and friends but generally Max felt a bit unsettled and now, having spent 10 days away from me, I think we have all had enough! It's definitely time to go home! The one thing Max did enjoy though is trips on the train to our London clinic - he found the whole experience quite exciting and loved the picnics and Regents Park playground visits I treated him to afterwards. Of course he had a couple of lovely daytrips with his beloved Grandma too and since he has gone back to Germany, I have consistently had 8 top quality uninterrupted hours of sleep so it hasn't all been bad!

Secondly, there were all those horrid hormones - not only are they extortionately expensive, making me gulp every time I need to hand over the credit card for another vial of the stuff but my hormone swings made regular PMT seem like a walk in the park. We virtually had to hide the knives and provide anyone who comes into contact with me with a bullet-proof vest!

Finally, there was the worry of some severe abdominal pain after egg collection which had me in tears and got my Mum rushing me to the on-call docs at the hospital for a check-up. It turned out to be enlarged ovaries and some fluid and follicles that really shouldn't have been there given that my eggs had already been collected. The clinic doctor said it was a possible indicator of Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome (OHSS) which is when the smelly hormones don't stop working even once you've stopped taking them (at least I got my money's worth!) This can be dangerous though so, for a while, they considered not transferring the embryos and scuppering the whole attempt. All the money, effort and upheaval for nothing.

However, the good news was that they did transfer two embryos in the end, and now it's just a case of 'watch this space' for the next two weeks!

Sleep is definitely NOT overrrated!

I guess it's no coincidence that this blog hasn't been updated since April - Max hasn't been sleeing too well. Since April. Just a phase we said....3 months ago. This is the longest phase of disrupted sleeping we have had since he was born and I think we have more or less decided it isn't going to solve itself quickly. So what's happening and what can we do about it?

The Scenario
Max's main aim appears to be to get into the maternal bed but the main problem is a) what happens before he gets there and b) what happens when he gets there. Entry to our room is, for some reason, frequently preceeded by small, medium or whopping great tantrums which appear to spring from nowhere and, ironically, involve, amidst the screaming and shouting, him telling us to "go away / geh weg!" Of course other kids often want to be in bed with their parents too and this is probably a normal phase but the tantrums are beyond the pale. The only thing we appear to be able to do when Max has these little 'fits' is instruct him to tell us when he needs a cuddle i.e. when he has finished. No point in touching him because you just get beaten about the head.

Then, what happens when Max is actually in the bed with us? Sometimes he sleeps peacefully which is fine but often enough there is a period or two of tossing and turning and feet in the face and diagonal positions and needing the blanket on and the blanket off and the blanket the other way round which leads to a generally disturbed night for everyone.

The Options

We have tried various half-hearted solutions - returning him when he is asleep, taking him back when he is tossing and turning - but nothing very consistent or insistent. Just to make sure things he doesn't make anything too easy for us, Max has also decided he doesn't want to wear a nappy at night and, even if he does have one on, he still wakes to tell us he needs a wee so we are in the process of doing away with nighttime nappies too...too much at once? Probably. End of our teathers? Definitely.

We need to get tough. The soft option of either letting him carry on until he grows out of it or returning him to bed when he falls asleep (which we sometimes do and it usually leads to him returning a couple more times in the night) is, as time goes on, not looking so attractive anymore.

So, it's either quick return (a la Tanya Byron) or a stairgate on his bedroom door. Big question is what happens in between - controlled crying, cold turkey, crying it out? Given that I am in the UK (well rested) and Marion is back in Germany looking after Max and his nighttime escapades alone, we haven't quite developed a plan of action yet. We think we'll try and return him every time he comes but what about the tantrums? And what if he genuinely needs a wee? And what if it doesn't work? And what if one of us has a nervous breakdown first??

As usual, answers on a postcard...