It’s the squeaking hinge. The incessant, grind-your-nerves squeaking hinge.
It wakes me in the morning and continues – squeak squeak squeak – until breakfast. It returns just before lunch – squeak squeak squeak. And again, in the afternoon – squeak squeak squeak.
And it’s making me feel terrible.
I’m on about crying, if you haven’t figured out the analogy yet. Well, not crying as such – more of a whinge really. My usually happy (if somewhat melodramatic) baby has turned into a Grumpinator that would rival Victor Meldrew.
And I just don’t know why.
This time last week, she’d wake with a babbling gurgle and reward me with a wide, toothy grin as soon as she saw me. Now, she wakes squeaking and doesn’t stop for the next half an hour.
It gets worse whenever I have to do anything, like make her something to eat. The incompetent mother that I am, I can’t actually hold her on my hip while I chop vegetables. So she squeaks.
I know what you’re thinking – for God’s sake woman, get a grip! But it’s not that easy. You try being in close confines with a squeaking hinge for hours on end. It’s really rather irritating.
And that’s what’s making me feel bad. I shouldn’t be “irritated” by my ten month old baby. I should realise she’s having a hard couple of days. Whatever it is, I should be there to cuddle her. I shouldn’t huff “not this again” as I plonk her on the floor to get on with something.
Where has my patience gone? Where is her happy face? What am I doing wrong?
Answers on a postcard please. Or, you know, leave me a comment or something.