I’m in the thick of newborn life again. And while I am LOVING being at home (I’d love to say not being at work, but I’m still doing two of my three jobs from home. Yes, yes I am insane), I do find these early weeks of newborn life are a bit like Groundhog Day. Same shit, different day. Get up, feed (well in our case, attempt to feed. The only time this kid cries is when he sees a boob coming at his face. The only boy on Earth to not want to be near boobs. I get they’re a bit used buddy, but shit, at least be polite and humour me), deal with bodily excretions, make goofball faces and get deadpan looks in return, play on the playmat (that’s me, he just sits there staring at me like I’m a dick), rush around madly doing the washing, cooking, cleaning and other kid wrangling while the baby is asleep. Rinse and repeat.