Holiday rules

These are the 'Roskill Rules' for holidays going forward. Interested? Thought so...

1. Babies get jet lag. Stick to the one time zone if holidays are to include at least a modicum of sleep.
2. Flights. Minimise the time spent in an enclosed loo roll tube with a wailing ticking time bomb. Stick to an 'under four hours' rule to retain sanity.
3. Spend as long as possible editing the packing to avoid looking like you're emigrating.
4. Babies don't do holiday lie-ins.
5. Likewise sunbathing.
6. And long lunches.

So our next trip? Somewhere in the UK where the weather is temperate, there are no aeroplanes to catch and no time zone changes? Oh no, that would be far too sensible. Team Roskill are off to bl**dy Kenya...

Plane panic

Our first flight with the noise box tomorrow, and both Matt and I are positively dreading that we may well soon be villified by the whole plane for possessing a baby who we are unable to silence. As I have found out in the last twelve weeks, babies can cry for a surprisingly long time before they 'tire themselves out.' If they sold baby Valium, I would be buying it in bulk.

Like father, like daughter

We will be starting the face exercises next week to work on those jowls. Matt appears to be a lost cause though...

Starting to look like a proper little person

Albeit one who appears to have recently stuck their fingers into the nearest plug socket.

The 1000 watt smile

Now her Mad-esty has decided to stop crying so much, Matt and I while away the hours in which we used to be asleep / out drinking /going to the cinema by trying to make her smile. The fact that eliciting a grin from her is still as unpredicatable as the English weather makes the game all the more compelling.

Here's one we made earlier:

And it's really quite exhausting work:

Camera-less, so reading more

Down at Heatherfield this weekend, but a flat camera battery means no photos of her Mad-esty. Boooo,

But there was a very funny article in today's Guardian about new fatherhood, aptly titled Man with a pram. Some wonderfully observed comments from the author Danny Wallace about becoming a corporal in 'Dad's Army', my favourite being just how different dad-ship is today:

"We are perfectly aware that our dads were dads too. The crucial difference is that they were always dads. They were born, then they were dads, and there was nothing in between, just enough to fill a couple of old photographs in which they're wearing too-short shorts or have weird hair. "

Maternity leave activity

Post natal pilates today at the New York Pilates centre. The instructor held the noise box for most of the session while I spent an hour lamely attempting to achieve a pre-pregnancy figure. A workout and a babysitter all for fourteen quid, though. A bargain by anyone's standards.

Showdown on Clapham Common

At a picnic on Clapham Common today, Madeleine met Jay Whiteley (Euan & Harriet's nephew), a strapping young boy who was perfectly charming towards her.

But on finding out that she was (a) 24 hours older than Jay and (b) still not even Jay's birth weight (an impressive 10lb 8oz), Madeleine threw a bit of a wobbly, precipitating an early exit from an otherwise delightful afternoon.

An early - but important - lesson that you can't always be the biggest / best / cleverest [insert adjective].

Gender stereotyping

Kate going to Bikram Yoga yesterday morning, meant that I was once again in charge of wardrobe.

While Madeleine and I were very happy with the where we ended up (below) there were murmurings from within the camp that she looked rather like a little boy.

I can't see it myself.

Behind the scenes

Hot off the press from yesterday's shoot: the little princesses get grouchy with their stylists.

Tsch tsch. What prima donnas - and at such a young age.