Saturday, 27 February 2010
Friday, 26 February 2010
Wednesday, 24 February 2010
With a fast diminishing wardrobe of clothes left that will fit a tellytubby esque girth, I'm fast forwarding to post maternity wear. So when I saw this jacket in the Observer, I justified it as being baby practical as it was wipe clean. And the colour was bright so aar Stav's vision would be endlessly stimulated.
Size 10, leather jacketed, pram pushing, yummy mummy, here I come.
Oh, how the dreadful, appalling, reality hurt when I donned said jacket and some tactful person suggested I look like an overweight Power Ranger. Thank God for refunds.
Tuesday, 23 February 2010
The only people who stand up to offer their seat to Kate are other women.
And since she's sporting a bump that unquestionably looks like it's holding a baby, as opposed to an excess of pizza and chocolate, there seems to be no excuse for men not wanting to offend. Which means they're just lazy and selfish.
So, if someone could just pass me my soap box and a copy of The Daily Mail, I feel a 'problem with today's society' rant coming on...
Monday, 22 February 2010
Kate Girl, 7lbs 1oz, 22nd March
Matt Boy, 8lbs 6oz, 2nd April
Catherine Boy, 7lbs 3oz, 21st March
Jools Girl, 7lbs 2oz, 23rd March
Jen Girl, 6lbs 12oz, 25th March
Phil Girl, 7lbs, 17th March
Olly Girl, 6lbs, 3oz, 26th March
To spice things up a little, we're trying to get everyone to pay £1 per pot (for each of sex, weight and date), so a massive £21 at stake.
Which we'll wangle back from whoever wins it anyway, by guilting them to put it into a baby trust fund for arr Stav.
Not that we're bad losers or anything.
Sunday, 21 February 2010
Following my problem-free construction of our push chair (which admittedly only involved clipping wheels onto a pre-assembled chassis) I decided it was time to up the ante and try to get the car seat into the car.There were lots of lovely diagrams from the Swedish manufacturer. Including this one warning us not to try and screw arr Stav into the chair with his head.
Thank God we've been told that one.
Friday, 19 February 2010
And she's come up trumps - it's black, zippy and... well a bag. But perhaps what makes it stand out is the sheer number of pockets.
18 pockets, of different sizes, each with its own zip, clasp or magnetic closing device.
How sensible, you might think, everything has its place. The slight problem being that Kate could fail to find something even if it was in a clear plastic bag, which is clearly labelled and only holding one item.
So posessing a bag which has 18 pockets is only going to end in tears.
Watch this space.
Wednesday, 17 February 2010
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
Tuesday, 9 February 2010
- Pre-birth, but heavily pregnant.
Small but extensive ammunition available to use against my beloved. General (but extreme) discomfort, Braxton Hicks contractions, hormones (equalling spontaneous explosion of tears timed conveniently to appropriate conversation) and looking like a Christmas pudding on legs. All of this means that Matt’s attempt at advancement is akin to him walking through a heavily laden minefield.
Similar to me possessing a nuclear bomb and him coming to the battle armed with a blunt fork. Should be in the bag shortly after this, particularly if I’m strategically blood-spattered.
- Post birth.
Baby blues, night time feeds, bleeding nipples and stitches. All heavy duty grenades that will eventually destroy the opposition (erm, I mean my gorgeous husband...)
Leader: “I want you all to write down what you did over a 24-hour period last Saturday or Sunday, breaking it down into hourly chunks”.
Cool, we thought. What a lovely thing to do; reminisce about what a nice weekend we had – lie-ins, reading the paper in bed, lunches, a spot of shopping and dinner with friends.
Leader (interrupting our reverie) and with a somewhat menacing glint in her eye: “Now I want you to look at 24 hours with your new baby. And what I’d like you to do is to fit in eight 1-hour feeds, your own mealtimes, a couple of laundry loads, one hour’s downtime, a wash (for you), a few hours of crying (who cares whether it’s yours or the baby’s at this point) and some sleep. Take this, times it by 7, and remind yourself that this is your life for at least the next 6 months. Okaaaay, you’re all set”.
Monday, 8 February 2010
Sunday, 7 February 2010
Yes, I know we haven't had the baby yet (due 6 weeks last Friday, so we're a little ahead of ourselves on this albeit important point).
But I've found that this is one of the things that friends with babies approaching toddlerdom somehow manage to get you thinking about way before time. I think Kate was only 4 months when it first became a discussion point.
Waiting lists for local nurseries (long), child minders until the age of 3 when they can start going to the waiting-listed nursery (expensive) etc. - all seemed to get us geared up. Like we haven't got enough to contend with at the moment.
My bedtime reading of late seems to consist largely of Ofsted reports. Fun.