Where's Lou Reed when you need him?

When the frog got home this evening, the spud and I were already locked in combat over whether or not I was going to be allowed to install a night-time nappy on his ever-increasing bottom. Not, however, that it has increased as much as that of his best friend next door who's mother confessed to me recently that, during a recent 'all hang out' trip to the paddling pool, other mothers were laughing and pointing, because apparently he has a whole other bum under his top one.

Anyway, the Frog arriving home during the final moments of the spud's bedtime hour is a fairly normal thing round our way, with the frog playing the role of Daddy Hero rescuing a benighted little bean from the perils of going to sleep - however, the Frog normally arrives home an hour later. Yes, folks, that's right, my son, my son with his hundred tiny hands and his pudgy little duracell legs, my son went to bed on time tonight.

Furthermore, he has slept through the night, with the exception of a few midnight nappy changes, for five days in a row. Not that I'm counting... except obviously I am counting because the first time his son wakes in the night, the Frog will be complaining that he 'never gets a good night's sleep' and so I am announcing the new number every morning at volume into his good ear.

I didn't realise, before I gave birth, that having a baby would be such a mathematical experience. And I'm not referring to the endless subtractions one has to make from one's bank account here but rather to the equation in which 'n' equals a good night's sleep. The main factors appear to be food, sleep, exercise and health and the equation looks something like this:

(food)y + (sleep)y + (exercise)y
____________________________ = n
teething - poo

I say 'something like' because I am certain I failed maths in high school, however I am perpetually trying to solve for 'y' when I have no idea what on earth I am doing. This means that I carefully question our childminder on all known factors and then try to work out what might be missing (did he only eat (food-1)?) so that I can try to fill the gap before bedtime. Thus, we can sometimes be found out in the playground long after most children have already been gently tucked in with their ironed pjs and Thomas the Tank engines; just me and all the other Bad Mothers trying to exhaust our toddlers before social services come around in their unmarked vans. Other times the Frog comes home expecting dinner and a smile and the spud and I are sat in the kitchen debating the merits of various food groups (how about some carrots 'No!' well then, some cereal? 'No!' What about a banana 'No! Tha! Tha! Tha!' 'Ah, a biscuit - go ahead, take three'). All this in the hopes that I will one day solve for that mythical event, the Perfect Day, leading to that most ellusive of creatures, the Silent Night.

Fridays are Spud days. I don't work and so the two of us spend the entire day together tooling around and having play dates. Sometimes the spud even gets to play. Today we firstly went to see a friend from our antenatal class who is two weeks past due having her second child (I am trying to solve for that equation too but I can't get past 'Frog=Non'). Her first child is a month younger than the spud however, as has been previously reported, he is bigger and taller and nicer and has been sleeping through the night since he was 8 weeks old. I know. AND she gets to have another baby. I would feel terribly, terribly envious about all the sleep she's had except I happen to know she had a dial-up Maternity nurse pushing her around during the first few weeks of motherhood when one is particularly open to suggestion.

Anyway, because Tall Friend is still, effectively, on his fancy dancy maternity nurse schedule, we were effectively on it too and it was like entering a completely different world. Lunch was eaten on time and then we left just before nap time. We said goodbye, me crossing fingers (and, secretly, my legs) for my lovely, soon-to-be-mother-of-two friend and the spud then had the perfect nap, waking ten minutes before He Of The Two Bottoms came over with his older brother to play exhaustively for a couple of hours. Then, because once one has entered the routine, it seems one stays on it like a bedtime travelator, he downed his entire dinner before 6 and we had running around and playing until the perfect bathtime. It was like watching my own life through a soft filter. We danced, we sang, we put things away, we splashed, we giggled, we fed animals in the zoo... when the frog came home, the spud was hiding from his nappy so sweetly under the duvet that I could feel my pancreas starting to give out. He slipped into bed so happily and went to sleep so soundly that... that... well, that I think today, maybe just for today, we managed to solve the equation.

Of course, this means he's going to be up at 5. But that's ok. It's my turn to sleep in. Oh yeah.