I've noticed as the kids have come along and multiplied my commitment to the rule book has diminished.

I'm thinking back to the first baby. The first baby it was all about the books..
To start with I bought every single pregnancy magazine on the shelf every month.
I read every page.
I reviewed every conceivable product.
I obeyed the health visitor.
I read every milestone at every month and devoted all my spare time to ensuring we hit it.

Number 1 had all new clothes. And toys. And equipment. God forbid anyone try to poison my little cherub with second hand tat.

I had endless anti bacterial spray proven to kill 99% of all known germs and totally safe for baby. And I used it. With a new cloth every time.

Baby number 1 went to every baby group in the world. Baby yoga, baby massage, baby gymnastics, baby music club, baby literacy, baby accountancy, baby business studies and baby Oxford University.

Baby number 1 was weighed every single month and baby number 1 had a baby book which was all filled in, with weights and dates and immunisations and the correct order the teeth came in.

I also had a little sleep when baby slept - ahhhh it was lovely.

Baby number 1 had a little routine of feeding and sleeping and playtime, it had nursery rhymes sang to it and black and white swirly pattern books adorned the shelves brought out to stimulate baby number 1's eyesight.
Baby number 1 even had a library card.

Baby number 1 was talked about all the time like no other conversation could ever exist anymore.. 'oh baby number 1 rolled over today' 'baby number 1 said 'Gah'', 'baby number 1 did such a funny burp', 'baby number 1 moved their eyes' .. you get my drift.
Life revolved around baby number 1 which is why ever going back to work seemed like the equivalent of asking the devil for tea. Poor baby having to go to a nursery surrounded by experienced and dedicated trained staff who sing play and feed your baby all day whilst baby makes lots of friends and blossoms in social interactions. Poor baby having to go here all day.
Mum sobs hysterically all the way to work and keeps checking rear view mirror to catch glimpse of empty car seat whilst continuing in tirade of tears wishing she had ba ba black sheep on repeat instead of the local radio station. Life is so cruel.
Mum learns to leave her firstborn but bores her workmates regularly with photos and milestones and eventually mum starts to think she's got this. She can so damn well be career woman and mum extraordinaire.

Then along comes Baby Number 2.

Baby number 2: Funny how we refer to a poo as a number 2 because with baby number 2, things go a little bit to shit. Irony there somewhere.

The books are still on the shelf, and there are still some clothes and equipment. It seems the right thing to do to use these again. After all, only my own little darling had used them before. But the steriliser, well that probably smells a bit off by now so best buy a new one.
Some of the vests and baby-gro's will be a bit bobbly, so I best buy new ones.
The pushchair has probably seen better days, so best buy a new one.

It starts going downhill with the scan picture, you don't bother bringing it to work to show everyone because let's face it, they all look the same on a scan give or take.

People ask if it's your first child and as soon as you say 'no it's my second. They glaze over and walk off'

Then you have the baby probably without a birth plan in place (baby number 1 had very specific birthing rules, that it probably didn't follow- but still, the rules were written out)
Baby number 2 could be born on the M1 for all the planning you do.

Baby comes home, to a toddler who thinks it's an alien and pokes it at regular intervals and suddenly regresses into being a baby again themselves, stealing dummies and laying in the babies Moses basket whether the actual baby is in it or not.
Just as well really because baby number 2 isn't going anywhere near that basket to sleep. It's your bed or no bed.

Then the health visitor came.

And I noticed I had sort of started to glaze over at the parts about sterilising equipment and not co-sleeping and I think I might have punched her inside my head when she mentioned the part about sleeping when baby slept after a bad night...
Erm, when exactly did she mean? When the toddler sleeps at exactly the same co-ordinated time as the baby?! Is that when I catch up on sleep? Because as far as I am aware, the toddler never sleeps. Not in the day and not at night either.

Weigh baby every month you say?

Shall I .. is it acceptable to come in my pyjamas to weigh in clinic with the toddler being dragged along by her legs and wearing a nappy that she might have had on for 12 hours now because she proper kicks off every time I go to change her and I can't be arsed to spend half the day playing 'roll the toddler back onto her back, pin her down and force clean nappy on' game.

Quite frankly, the days of leaving the house before 11am are long behind me and I think I've forgotten how I ever used to get ready at all, let alone get ready for a particular time.

Make up? Crusted over.
Hairbrush? Crusted over and enough hair in it to create dreadlocks for a whole community of bald people.
Toothbrush? Crusted over with yesterday's toothpaste now dried up and welded onto the bristles because I forgot to brush my teeth before bed.

Baby number 2 has a baby book as well. Just to be fair to it. To show I loved them equally and all that.
So far baby number 2 has her birthday written in and who her parents are. I'm not sure she even has teeth and if she even had a birth weight for that matter.
It's all a blur.

Baby number 2 wears second hand clothes. Probably not even the right size anymore. The 6 month old is quite likely in 0-3 month clothes because there's no time to check the sizes and neatly pack up the old clothes anymore.
But hey, what girl doesn't like to fit into the size below in clothing - I'm just setting her up for life here.

The sprays around the house have all been replaced with wipes.. usually baby wipes, there's nothing a baby wipe can't fix. Dusty surfaces, stains in the kitchen, toilet seats, face washing. They do every job in the house now. If they tasted nice I'd even stick one in a stew like a bay leaf.
And when I say stew I mean the pre packaged crap I buy from Farmfoods (money a bit tighter these days) and then pass it off as my own culinary creation.

Baby number 2 was meant to glide into the already existing madness and just make up the numbers. Baby number 2 was just going to 'fit in'.

But what no one tells you about baby number 2 is that it'll most likely be the polar opposite of baby number 1.
The only thing baby number 2 will 'fit into' are the bobbly baby gro's from baby number 1!

Baby number 2 will see your routine, raise it by 10 then destroy the fecker like you've never known.

Baby number 2 will realise you've started wearing make up again and managed to go back to work prior to its birth and get out the house before 11 and then shoot a runny disgusting shit all the way up its own back so you have no other means of removing it effectively and you have to sort of bath the baby poo away before leaving existing stained clothes in cold water in an attempt to lift the stain.
I lied when I said baby wipes shift everything.. they don't work on all poo's unless you use the whole packet!

Somehow baby number 1 and baby number 2 survive your care in the early days and eventually you start to nail this parenting of 2 thing.

Obviously you can erase the hours between 5pm and 7pm from the nailing because that's when it goes to shit in every household across the country, you'll never suss that one out trust me. No parent ever has or ever will.

Then along comes baby number 3.

Number 3...

Where the actual feck did I leave him?? Shit.
Might still be inside primark somewhere, best nip back...