Don't sweat the small stuff

That's the advice to remain sane in early motherhood and I've been taking deep breaths and muttering it to myself all weekend.

The problem comes in figuring out the small stuff from the big stuff.

Housework and cooking definitely come under small stuff.  That said we have to have clean clothes and we have to eat.  And I really would be doing myself an injustice if I weren't making the most of my additional 500 calories a day that's meant to be awarded to lactating mothers.

But it's been a tough weekend as I'm already finding that I will have to find a way of coping with letting go so that other people can enjoy Nico.  He is, after all, a grandson, a half-brother (although there is no distinction between "full" and "half" in Spain), a nephew, a great-nephew and a cousin.

Watching my seven year-old stepson push the pram with his nine day-old brother was enough to set my heart racing and bring me out in a sweat.  "Don't sweat the small stuff", I chanted, but I've barely been allowed to push the pram myself yet as for now it seems that the natural monopoly for pram pushing rests with Dad as some kind of car substitute.  I know I'll get plenty of practice from next week when Ivan goes back to work, so again, clearly small stuff.   But there have been times when it was all I could do to stop myself from picking Nico up and keeping him in the safety of my arms all weekend.  He's still so tiny (although he's gained a mammoth quarter of a kilo just in the last week), and he's my pride and joy, however, I'll have to get used to it but it doesn't mean I have to like it.