Putting Kate through her paces

What better way to help shift that baby weight than running up and down Primrose Hill?

(I wasn't forcing her to do it, honest. It's just the way the photo's taken that makes it seem like Kate's running. Look - she's smiling, see?)

Guess where we parked?

We drove all the way round the car park (twice) in order to find the 'Parent & Child' parking spaces in Sainsbury's today.

And they're actually further away from the front of the supermarket than where we normally park.

But that's not the point.

In an unrelated matter

I bought some silicone ear plugs yesterday.

These actually very comfortable BioEars are "for general use such as noise reduction and swimming".

Despite trying them out for size last night, I will of course be using them for the latter.

Mostly.

The poisoned dwarf

Madeleine made it clear that she was unimpressed with her new white cardigan.

So opinionated for one so young. I can't think where she gets it from.

15 days after the event

Unrecognisable.

And with a bit of Wii Fit Plus action (which Matt bought me for Mother's Day - luckily I'm fairly thick-skinned), the only way is up.

I hope.

Just the three of us

I haven't yet put a shot up of our new family unit, so here's one (where we don't look absolutely knackered):

Hello Yummy Mummy

I think Kate looks hot here.

She thinks she looks like she's touting for business.

A brief encounter

Madeleine gets acquainted with her highland cow (which really does need a name, now that I think about it).

Our friend Nick (who took this photo when he came over on Sunday) said it would make a great Christmas card.

Sure. If we lived in Yakland.

My reading list

This week, I am mostly reading:

A Best Friend's Guide to Surviving the First Year of Motherhood

(We haven't got 'A Dad's Guide to the First Year', so I'm reading over Kate's shoulder for the time being).

And for the foreseeable future, I will be reading the epic:

Your Baby Week by Week: The Ultimate Guide to Caring for Your New Baby

Both available from all good book stores.

The name tag

Such a classic photo.

But we actually forgot to take the photo before we chopped the tag off, so we had to sticky-tape it back on for photographic posterity.

But no one will EVER know.

Look: no hands

Over the last couple of weeks, we have worked out that it's good to be able to use your hands during the day.

So we're currently training Madeleine to be more portable.

Kate with the BabaSling:

And me with the BabyBjorn (in Walnut & Khaki, dontcha know):

Believe it or not, these 2 photos were the ones where we looked the least moronic.

It's a family affair

Oh, how we laughed.

Well, not at the time. Only now can we look back and chuckle at the events of Tuesday evening.

Having gone into labour when Mum and Dad were still staying with us, my increasingly painful contractions turned into something of a spectator sport.

The whole family in the sitting room: me on a kitchen chair centre stage, surrounded by pillows, Lucozade Sport, and my Tens machine on full whack. And an episode of Cops with Cameras providing a soothing backdrop on the TV whilst Mum, Dad and Matt looked on.

Imagine The Royle Family transported to north west London and you're not far off.

Caught out by a Spring shower

But still smiling.

Madeleine is too, she's just not in shot.

The weigh-in

Madeleine's second, actually.

We forgot to take pictures of the first one. Or rather, the first community midwife took less time to strip, weigh and re-clothe Madeleine, than it took me to race upstairs and grab the camera.

A whole extra 5 ounces since Monday. That's my girl.

Look familiar?

In her super-cute snowsuit (thank you for the hand-me-down, my god-daughter and Madeleine's future best gal pal, Martha Poloniecki) we think she bears an uncanny resemblance to one Maggie Simpson.

We're just glad Madeleine didn't have jaundice, otherwise we really would have had a cartoon character for a daughter.

Clever little monkey

Hear no evil:

Speak no evil:

Still working on see no evil.

Never mind the stork

Ours was delivered by aliens in microwave-ready packaging:

Our first trip out en famille

Leaving home (having been cooped up for 3 days):

Goon-like self-take en route:

And moments after I'd forgotten that (a) our front garden has an imperceptible incline up to the front door and therefore (b) to put the break on the pram while trying to open said front door:

No, it’s not stuffed road kill.

It’s a present from Grandma Roskill.

Who else?

Invasion of the grandparents

Well, Phil & Jen were already here with us:

(Making themselves at home, as you can see).

But Catherine & Jools weren't far behind:

Still working on what everyone's names are going to be - 'Grannie' and 'Grandpa' across the board might start to get a little confusing.

Leaving hospital

One proud papa.

(Trying not to rush out of the birthing centre too obviously, knowing all the time that the minutes on the parking meter are tick-ticking away).

Look what the stork dropped off

Allow us to introduce you to Madeleine Elizabeth Roskill.

Born at 2.11am on Wednesday 10th March (T minus 9 as it turned out) and weighing 5lbs 14oz.

What a beaut, even at less than an hour old.

Happy, healthy, and already kicking back and relaxing with Ma and Pa in Kensal Green.

More photos to follow.

Obviously.

And they're off

I've been invited down to the opening day of the Cheltenham Festival by Betfair.

Which is a week today.

Which is Tuesday 16th March.

Which is 3 days before Kate is due (or T minus 3).

Not one to want to miss out on all the action, and certainly not one to let me go and have any fun without her, Kate is currently plotting how to self-induce labour at approximately 11.25am on the Tuesday morning, at which point I'll have just arrived in Cheltenham and should be supping on my first pint.

So I've already placed a few bets on some of Tuesday's runners (Oscar Whisky and Dan Breen in the Supreme Novice Hurdle if you must know) just in case Kate goes all the way and manages to start squeezing out arrr Stav before I get to the racecourse, let alone into the paddock.

This is not out of spite, you understand. My darling wife is not capable of such nefarious emotions.

Or at least, that's what she tells me.

The siege

Mum and Dad arrived today looking as though they'd just committed an armed robbery on a mince meat factory.

After turning our kitchen into an assembly line for the afternoon, the freezer now contains 6 shepherd pies, 8 lasagnes, 5 other non specific meat pies, 3 chillis, 4 bolognese and some spicy pork burgers.

Starve we will not.

We are now REALLY ready...

... well, at least, the nursery is. So if nothing else, arrr Stav will have a place to lay his (or her) head while his parents are losing theirs.

Please note the mood lighting:

And the 'covering all bases' approach to gender with the choice of prints on the wall:

The hospital bag

As my BP (Birthing Partner), Matt is in charge of the hospital bag. The good news is that we've still got 12 days to go to my due date and he's finally started to think about the essentials. So we have a crate of isotonic drinks (for Matt), an airtight box of snacks (for Matt) and, this morning, Matt suggested he might pack his swimming shorts just in case he wants to get into the birthing pool with me.

A day out at Center Parcs this is not. Urgent BP replacement required.

Becoming a 2 car family

Modern, eco-minded couple that we are, Kate and I are now a 2 car family.

Which I know is ridiculous, given there are only 2 and a half of us, and the half can't drive (yet).

But Kate has been quite open about her hate (no, not too strong a word) of driving our 44-year old, starts-every-time, road-tax-free, eminently practical Volvo Amazon:

"There's no power-steering, so I have to strain to turn every corner. Which really isn't good in my condition, Matt."

"It's too big, so I can't parallel park without holding up the cars behind me for 30 minutes every time. Which isn't good for local traffic flow, Matt."

"There are no Isofix fittings. Where on earth are we going to put the car seat, Matt?"

"I don't care if it looks cool, Matt. The old-fashioned seatbelts no longer fit around my expanding girth, and would probably garotte me if I was ever in an accident."

I mean, I'm as sensitive as the next man, but none of these strike me as REAL reasons to have to get rid of a car (and particularly not one that looks this cool).

So, if it wasn't for a last-minute offer* by my parents for a long-term loan of their Golf, then we might have been more than a little stuck.

And Kate would have just had to brush up on her parallel parking.

*Does not exclude gentle coercion.