Thursday, 5 December 2013

Son : Num-Nums

Hey Dudes,

It's me, Son.

Had to share some exciting news. 

Food. Turns out it doesn't all have to be cold, smooth and goopy. Here's a list of what I like and how I like it, incase any of you decide to take me out for num-nums.

- mushed up in wheatabix : Good
- whole: Bad
- Good for ....nothing, except maybe clapping with

- mushed up in wheatabix : Bad
- whole: Good
- Good for .... distance spits

- mushed up in, or out of, wheatabix : Good
- whole: not yet. Mummy had to scoop a mouthful out for me because I couldn't do anything. Apparently I had filled my face with it in one go.
- Good for .... squishing between your fingers

Its all good

Its all good

Can I have baths in it please?

Mummy needs to work on this one. 
With pasta : bad
Without pasta: bad
Without veg : bad
With veg : good
With added tomatoe & squash : good

With cheese : Good
With bolognese : Bad
With veg : Good
With bolognese : Bad
whole : bad (these are baby pasta shapes incase any of you are wondering)
Zoom-a-Zoom'ad (this is a hand held food blitzy thingy. Actually maybe zoom-a-zooma is a more accurate name): That's pasta??
Good for ... distance spits if whole
(Seeing a pattern yet mummy???)

Good for ... tearing but not sharing


Jury is out

Good for sucking up whole 
Good for pooping out whole

Peas are the bestest.
Mushed or whole bring on the tiny green balls please

Scrambled Egg
Good for . . . distance and range spits. Mummy calls this pebble-dashing, not sure what this is. 

Uncle Jits introduced me to this. I don't think I like it much. It makes my cheeks pop and shoulders wiggle. No, I don't think I like limes. 

I gets lots of other types of num-nums but these are the ones I HAD to tell you about.

I like to pretend eat a lot and when Mummy isn't looking I turn my head to the side and spit it over my shoulder. Or hold it in my hand, open my mouth and drop it into my lap- I got out of eating a whole pear doing this last one!! 

I don't like the face wipes at the end or that Mummy makes me put on new clothes after every meal. She says if I just ate and not pretended then I wouldn't get it on my clothes. . . I am not sure. I think she's a messy feeder.

catch youse later with my next 'venture

7 1/2 months of age

Wednesday, 30 October 2013

Smug vs Bad Mummy Moment

Some Mummies are smug and some Mummies know it all. I am neither but would like to think I am honest about my good and bad Mummy moments.

Today Bad Mummy (me- BM) and Smug Mummy (shall remain nameless-SM) had, in hindsight, quite a funny exchange at our fitness class. . .

SM: My other half is away tonight, so I am definitely treating myself with a pizza. I've earned some carbs after this class.

BM: Oh, we're in a similar position tonight except I am going to treat myself to a glass of wine.

The memory of hourly wake ups the night before still fresh in my mind. SM looks at me like I am some kind of lush.

BM: Once he has gone down of course.

SM looks at me some more, as if I have suggested that I intend to teach Son how to throw knives at the tender age of 6 months.

She has clearly decided I am some sort of degenerate of a mother, so takes a different approach.

SM: Hubert* is now in his second out fit of the day.

BM: Me too! As long as he is clean and dry we can probably see 2/3 changes of clothes based on how meal times have gone.

BM clearly thinking I had redeemed myself. 
SM clearly thinking BM was redeemable then says the following.

SM (leaning over like we're best buds): Of course, you know its a bad day when you have had to change your outfit as well.

BM: I am well past that. I'll keep wearing what I started the day out in regardless of the amount of puke I get thrown at me.

SM: Yes, but wait until you are on solids. Then the puke really does smell like puke.

BM: Yes. We are and it does. And I am well past changing my clothes throughout the day to try and keep up.

SM reverts back to her original look of disgust at the mention of my having a glass of wine and I can virtually hear her thinking "what is the phone number for social services? This child needs rescuing"

Needless to say we were not (and I suspect chose not) to be paired up on any of our joint exercises!

* not his real name

Tuesday, 15 October 2013

Wandering Breast Pads

Pre-Son (a distant memory now) my boobs were just there. Nothing to shout about or advertise or fiddle with or adjust.

Now they are functional and require maintenance.

And I find myself adjusting them in any old place- the bus, the middle of a shop, mid conversation. Any old place, any old time. I have lost any sense of dignity around "My Girls". Pre-Son I would never have dreamed of naming my boobs.

You see as part of breast feeding I find myself wearing re-usable breast pads to avoid any embarrassing marks appearing on my top. Instead I have swapped embarrassing marks for embarrassing bra/boob adjustments.

Why and how these pads are roaming around my bra is a mystery.

There is no fixture between the pad and the bra, something a friend has listened to me bemoan for a couple of weeks now, and try to come up with some ideas on fixing. Which have included the following:

- velcro
     This clearly has nipple related agony written all over it if you get in wrong in terms of reveal/disguise pre and post feed!
- loops and hooks
      The nobly nature of these attachments would simply draw far more attention to the nipple area than any woman I know would ever want to do. Plus and excessive amount of faffing pre and post feed.

 (Note- between the pad and bra and not the pad and boob)

Any solution would still require an ability to get easy and quick access to a boob for the obvious feeding requirements.

Why these pads are wandering around I have no idea. Perhaps they are lonely and need to confer with each other about the state of current affairs.

Which leads me onto the other lament I have shared with BF'ing Mum friends; is that nursing bras are dull. There is no other way to describe it but soft cotton, bubble gum grey, white or black is not inspiring. The best ones I have come across are M&S and have a splash of colour and even lace.

It is just a shame that at least once a week Son manages a well targeted puke down the centre of my now ample cleavage, sending the bra (along with top) into the wash. Consequently they are fast losing they're suggestion of sexiness!

Thursday, 10 October 2013

The administering of medicine - Bad Mummy Style

So, a couple of you might have already heard this but when I told a friend what my sleep deprived family got up to the other night she said straight away that this was to be shared with you all. I dedicate this one to you Mrs B.

As I write this I am half way through a glass of much needed wine. You see we are going through teething. By "we" this pain is being shared across us all- it's not exclusive to Son. And no matter how many times I whisper into his ear, over rocking cuddles, that "once they are through, they'll be through and it'll all be over". I don't know what comfort this is giving him. We both feel pretty helpless as he wakes in the middle of the night in pain.

Which he did last night.

So up leapt Husband and up leapt Wife as if the bed were on fire to see what had happened to Son. I set about soothing and cuddling while Husband gets the calpol. One measure was all we needed to get past this lips. That's 2.5ml. not much I'm sure you'll agree however his head shaking and crying sees him knock a good chunk of it off the spoon, over the side of his face, on the carpet and over Husbands hand.

So how do we get the remainder into him?

a. Do we use a syringe?

b. Do we coat a dummy?

c. Do we mix it with a bit of milk?

d. Do we run it down my boob towards his mouth as he's feeding in the hope that it somehow makes its way into his mouth??

Why d. of course.

What?! (luncay) I hear you cry. Well, the alternatives didn't occur to us until we'd committed to coating both my boob and Sons face with calpol.

As he falls asleep later on having been soothed to sleep by my warmth, some suspiciously calpolly tasting milk and shear exhaustion I am hit by the realisation that in the morning I am going to be looking a a baby version of Paul Hollywood - with a little fluffy like goatee courtesy of his bed sheet and me with my own fluffy boob.

Ahh the joys, pass the wine Husband.

Friday, 27 September 2013

Dear Son- a landmark or two


So you are 5 months and one week old today and have struck a huge landmark. Today in fact.

OK so you're not elegant with it yet.

You're not necessarily the quickest either.

But you are crawling.

In a very determined way.

And it's exciting enough that you stop, look at me and giggle and laugh at the sense of achievement.

You are very funny. And I am very proud.

Your whole world is opening up at the moment as we start introducing you to food that is more interesting than milk.

Parsnips- No Likey
Carrots, Courgettes, Brocoli, Sweet Potato- Likey
Pear, Apple, Banana- Likey
Mango- No Likely

Perhaps what you don't appreciate is that I have been sneaking the parsnips into the carrot and sweet potatoes and you have been devouring them.

Your enthusiasm for it is fantastic and really encouraging. You grab the spoon with both hands, drag its contents off before I can get it to your mouth and spend a good 5 minutes sucking a licking every finger and nook and crany on your hands. The only problem is that in your excitement you have inhaled brocoli and despite my best efforts to clear your nose it took a sneezing fit to dislodge some of the more lodged bits!

I can happily report that both of us end up covered in your breakfast and dinner. On a regular basis, but its a lot of fun, watching you work out whether you like it or not.

As for baths and swimming I think you have discovered splashing and attack the water with such force that when it hits you it the face it momentarily stops you in your tracks.

As for the sleep ninja's they are still on the radar but happily you are fighting them during the night and your Daddy and I are still to discover what a full nights sleep looks like since you arrived in our lives.


Saturday, 24 August 2013

Son- Stuff I really like

More stuff I am discovering and some of my usual favourites!

They just cant be beaten. Still.

Amazing the noises you can make. I like to nuzzle into Mummy and Daddy and get my mouth really close to their ears before letting off a super squeak. 

Brilliant. You and chew, dribble, suck and bite all parts.

With a bit of help I can get from my back to sit and then to stand. It brings my face to knee hight which is ideal for a bit of knee sucking. 

He is really soft and holds his own blanket. I think he's lovely. He thinks I am scary but that's only because I like to eat his head. 

Nanna and Grandad
Grandad has a funny chin. It is nothing like Daddy's. It has soft, furry prickles that I can touch and stroke. 
Nanna is the cuddle-iest and but I am concerned she is part of the Sleep Ninjas. One cuddle or two with her and I drop off.

Granny and Grampa
They tell me the best stories and I have to chat back to them about all the things Mummy makes me do. Like take a bath every night. Urgh.

OK so I might not be doing it properly but I have my legs working I just need to figure out how to do my arms. Mummy laughs when she scoops me up because my nose and chin have gone pink from rubbing on the carpet. 

I dont think it is so funny.

Also not funny. Carriers good- I can see lots. Prams are rubbish and if I cry hard and long enough then I can sometimes get a carry from Mummy, Daddy or Nanna or Grandad.

Buggy Bootcamp
Good if the weather is nice and I can roll around the blanket with the other babies. Even better if I can get the Giant Tall Shouty Man to pick me up while mummy gets a red face, smelly and sweaty by running around the park. 

Bad if I have to stay in the pram.

Right, check you laters, I am off for more A-vent-oors!

Some of the things they don't tell you about babies/pregnancy/post popping

I thought I might mention a couple of things that on reflection I wasn't aware of when he made his arrival into the world 4 months ago.

Both yours and the baby.

You: The first couple require a lot of relaxing and patience and panting. Do not be alarmed. I have also since rediscovered an unappreciated love of All Bran!
Baby: Frequency, colour, consistency the works. You will talk about this for hours and days at a time with other Mums and even non Mums

Hair Loss (yours)
Every little fist full will come out with strands and strands.
My hair brush has been loaded every time I brush it.
Shampooing and Conditioning see more and more fall out.
The good news is that its not usually permanent but freaked me out on my 30(something)th birthday when I thought I'd spotted a couple of bald patches. Yes, I nearly cried but I am assured it will settle down and revert to pre pregnancy thickness. The bald patches? My overly active imagination.
We might be the only flat in Edinburgh with hair lined carpets!

If you decide to breast feed, once you know what your doing and the baby knows what its meant to be doing your are off.
I now no longer have any qualms or concerns about whipping a boob out to feed Son. Anywhere. With the exception of a swimming pool perhaps.

Top Tip- to boost confidence its handy to have some other fellow breast feeding mum to hand if you are considering the alfresco feed.

Son and I enjoyed a feed in Princess St gardens with another Mum and tot. Something I would have previously dreaded doing for fear of comments and looks. Having had the support of my friend who also had to feed her little one I now feel happy enough to do this on my own!

Oh and for as long as you are doing this forget sexy underwear. It does not exist with nursing bras, but they are roomy and comfy. So not all bad!

This will catch you unawares.
It will go everywhere.

In the very early days when Husband and I were talking about starting a family he jokingly said "are you sure, I hear they will puke in your shoes".

I have had puke in my hair, on my shoulder, down my back and arms, over my legs, on my crotch, in an armpit and, honestly, in my shoe. While my foot was in it naturally. Warm baby puke on your foot and running around your shoe.

Nothing quite like it.

Forget it.

Nursery Rhymes
It's amazing how many of these will come flooding back to you.

Screams, Shrieks and Giggles
These will come from unexpected places and for totally unknown reasons.

Son likes to smile while he makes sad noises. When you get up close his little eyes twinkle and a big smile cracks open. He is, what is referred to in parenting circles as being "at it".

He also does baby purr's where he makes a small, quiet, contended hum on the exhale.

Despite it all one tiny smile will wipe of the memory of the lack of sleep, the fact your clothes all smell of sour milk by the end of the day and at 6pm you might find yourself wondering whether or not you brushed your own teeth!

(But of course none of these are hard and fast experiences that all Mums will have/have had but they are mine!)

Friday, 26 July 2013

A few more of my favourite things by Son


Me again.

I thought you might like to hear about some more of my favourite things:

1. Buses
    These are still my to favourite thing.

2. Poo's
    I'm not holding onto them for days at a time any more, I am firing out 5 or 6 a day.
    It's ace.
    I especially like to do them in fresh nappies that Mummy has just put on.

3. Vowels especially the letter A
     I can say it quietly
     I can say it LOUDLY
     I can say it quickly
     I can say it s.l.o.w.l.y
     I can mix these all up.

4. Hair
    It's so soft, especially at the back of the neck.
    I like to take a fist full of this soft hair at the back of Mummies neck and pull on it.
    I am hoping to dangle off of her head on day. Soon. SO I have to practise a lot.

5. Standing
    OK so I still need help with this one but man can I hold my arms out nice and wide to balance.

6. Girls
    They go squeaky when I smile and giggle at them.
    I like to bash my long eye lashes at them.
I am 13 weeks old now and getting to grips with my likes and not likes.


Thursday, 27 June 2013

From a Mother to a Son (1)

Dear Son,

You have no idea how you have fundamentally changed two lives so dramatically.

Your primary means of communication seems to be screaming and crying, such noise to come from such a small body, its incredible!

Your Daddy and Mummy are completely in love with you and how quickly you are getting to grips with how to wrap us around your little delicate finger to your every whim.

Today you are 9 weeks and 5 days old.

You are flirting with all the ladies- but only occasionally with your Mummy- and have made lots of baby friends who it seems you are starting to recognise and are making new gurgles and giggles and squeaks and shrieks at. And them with you!

Its the most beautiful thing to watch.

When you fall asleep in my arms my heart over flows at those long peaceful lashes and I marvel that you are here at all.

What is it you dream of baby boy? When you whimper and cry or a slow steady smile creeps across that innocent face.

You have fought for space in me and while this meant a week in hospital on pain relief for me you won.

And when it came to making your arrival you took your own sweet time.

12 days late and 25 hours worth of co-operation between us and the wonderful team at Edinburgh Royal to get you here. And boy did you make your arrival known- a broken collar bone, through no choice of any of us (the Edinburgh team, me, your Daddy or you) and a couple of nights in Baby Spa. Or as it is known to the experts - High Dependency.

Your farts are something else though.

Where is this coming from?! Your timing is to the highest of comedic standards- for example very loudly during a seriously sad and momentous moment in Baby Cinema movie which even made Mummy's friend laugh because it was so loud. She made no comment about the smell that slowly arose from your peachy wee bum moments later, but I am sure a wee tear appeared in the corner of her eye (possibly not laughter related).

There is not one thing your Daddy and I wont do for you; to keep you safe and secure and happy, so that you grow into a confident young man that makes us proud every day and is a joy for us and others to know...  you might be there already.

We will do this every day of your life little one. This will not change, I promise. We will always be there for you.

You are my angel.

Love Always
Your Mummy

Tuesday, 25 June 2013

One of my favourite things by Son

I like buses.

My current set of hot wheels doubles as my pram and moses basket. Mummy says this is a fantastic and clever idea.

I don't think it is.

I like to sleep in my moses basket and get confused when Mummy wraps me up and puts me in bed.

If we are going on an adventure there is no way I am going to sleep through it. Those Sleep Ninja's can forget it.

But I get really cross at the idea time might be getting wasted and I might not be achieving by being put to my bed in the morning or middle of the day. Mummy says I get this from Daddy.

While I am getting good at holding my head up and can stand (with a bit of help from Mummy & Daddy) I can only really wave my arms around and scream and cry. So I do all three as loudly as I can to fight the sleep ninjas and make sure Mummy knows about my displeasure about being in my bed but outside at the same time- what is she after, Sleeps or not Sleeps?

The problem is Mummy doesn't always get me on the bus when I am doing battle. She walks to the next stop and the next one and the one after that until I "calm down" or the Sleep Ninja's get me. Damn her.

Once I am on the bus though its ace.

If I time it properly and start the screaming and crying routine when we are on the bus and it is moving then Mummy is very quick to lift me out and let me look around.

I am BRILLIANT at holding my head up and keeping my legs straight for AGES!!

It is great.

My favourite thing No. 1.

I like best of all to stare at old ladies.

Beyond what Mummy says is "socially acceptable". Apparently once they have said how nice I look and what lovely big eyes I have I should move onto the next pensioner or cuddle into Mummy and pretend to be shy. I think they can say more to Mummy about how wonderful I am.

So I keep staring.

I like the colourful seats. My favourite bus has red, blue and brown tartan seats. That is a lot of colour to look at.

I like it when Mummy sits me so I am facing forward and can look out of the front window. Its like being in Baby Cinema but better because there are cars, lights, trees, people getting on and people getting off.

There is so much to look at.

It's definitely the best.

Friday, 21 June 2013

Feed me Seymour, Feed me NOW!!

Son and I ventured into work today to introduce him to all the kind friends and colleagues who had signed cards and spent time shopping for many lovely gifts for him (and his Mummy).

I am currently living my life in a series of 2 hour chunks. This is key to how the rest of our day panned out!

At 11am he'd been fed and was sleeping in the car seat and I figured that we had till 1pm before it would be time to find a quiet corner and feed, burp, mop up the throw up, soothe and settle Son. We were going to be in the office from 12-2pm. Lunch with Husband and then a tour around some familiar faces.

We didn't make it up to the team until 1pm so I already knew that I was on borrowed time and warned the smiling faces that we might have to make an abrupt exit. We unfortunately lost some time when he threw his 11am feed all over my top. . . so an emergency replacement had to be picked up on route to the office. We made it into the office for 12:30pm and after lunch we were with the team at 1pm. . .

You could wipe the tension off of my forehead. You see during the day Son can go from 0 to 100 in terms of fury over an empty or suspected empty stomach and its very much a case of find a space and plug him in ASAP. At night though I seem to be able to get to him before he is awake enough to realise he is starving and we fill him and and settle him down again with very little throw up and his eyes remain shut through out.

He was, as is becoming a bit of a pattern these days, a wee saint sensing my tension he behaves impeccably!

Smiles and giggles and batting the lashes for all the girls. A right wee charmer.

When The Boss arrived I introduced Son and prayed quietly that he wouldn't fart really loudly (and smellily) in front of him or projectile puke at his suit. He did however accept Boss' compliments graciously but was not prepared to grip his finger. Well you can only ask so much of an 8 week old.

Having met my team we went to find Husband and say hello and thank you to his team (it is by chance rather than design that Husband and I work for the same company, in the same office, on the same floor, in the same wing and in eye line of each other- we do not and will not work together, by design!). He met 2 of Husbands work colleagues before losing his cool.

Doing our Usain Bolt impressions we (Son and I) sprinted for the exit*, the lift and into a baby changing disabled loo. For a feed.

Welcome to my rant.

1. Disabled loos should have lids, shouldn't they?! I had to sit on a toilet seat with no lid and feed Son. Not very relaxing in this context in another, where my jeans and pants are around my ankles and I am in there for entirely different purposes, I know this to be a more relaxing proposition.

2. Baby changing rooms, while spacious, should always have a toilet in there. In a near by shopping centre I popped into the Baby Change room where we had a more challenging post feed experience but I will come onto that in a moment.
     If I need the loo what am I meant to do with Son and his Wicked Wheels?! Leave him parked outside the cubicle and tend to my own needs?! I'm think not, lord knows what trouble he might get into. So I have used the disabled loos and brought him in with me and we have sat awkwardly, while he looks at me curiously and I try not to look at him until we can both get out of there tout suite.

Later on today we killed some time at the aforementioned shopping centre before picking Husband up and heading for home during which time we had to tend to another feed. This one ended in a series of throw ups**, and I am not ashamed to say that by the time we'd finished I was in this locked Baby Change room in my under wear pacing around with a crying baby over my shoulder. Thats right I am not ashamed I just dont care.

As long as Son is calming down and feeding and I am not getting hot, flustered and stressed and that we are not doing this in the middle of a shop but in the privacy of a large locked room then where's the harm?!

The weather has been pretty muggy so off with the new top pre-feed.  I have already kicked off my pumps to cool my feet and hopefully cool down for this feeding session.

We sit down and feed.

Puke all over my Jeans- off with the jeans,

Now in my under-roos. Son is puking left right and centre. In an effort to keep track and not step my my bear feet into any of the wet freshly consumed boob juice I dropped a tissue over each little liquid parcel he threw over my shoulder.

He drifted off and I sat back down to ease off my back.

Sleep when your baby sleeps. This is the advice I hear time and time again. It is advice I am sick of to be honest. It only really works if you are at home or know when your child is about to drop off and can arrange to be at home for this reason.

We have no sense of any pattern of routine of behaviour during the day to be able to facilitate the latter. And neither Son or I are prepared to be held hostage in the flat by the sleep monsters. Me - praying they'll take him quickly and Him fighting them off with a rage. This afternoon he fought them and ultimately lost but not before he tried to pelt them with puke.

So I tried closing my eyes.

That's right this afternoon I was perched uncomfortably on a chair in an M&S Baby Change (one of the better changing facilities I have come across) in my underwear holding Son over my shoulder with my eyes closed trying to catch some z's.

It doesn't happen.
1. I am concerned about drifting off and dropping Son. A fear I have even when I am awake.
2. The chair is uncomfortable making sleep impossible.
3. The lights flick between bright and dim- presumably to prevent exhausted parents doing exactly what I was attempting.

We are both shattered but we make it to the end of the day without falling apart too much***and both being told either how well we look (me, despite the bags under my eyes) or gorgeous we are (him). We get home with smiles on all our faces. It is the weekend and we are all happy and together for 2 days before the week begins again!

*I know how frustrating it is to be in an office environment when someone brings in a baby which starts to scream and cry. Worse still if you are on an audio and trying to speak. Having been there myself, and grumbled about it, I am determined that we respect the fact this is an office and any sign of screaming or crying we exit. Quickly.

**The throwing up Son has been doing isn't too much of a concern as I don't think hes throwing up the whole feed and isn't running a temperature etc. We're on weight monitoring though to make sure he's getting big week by week! 

***Mainly me freaking out about his throwing up and him freaking out that he's not getting fed quickly enough. Breast Feeding on demand is like being at the mercy of a power crazed lunatic! 

Wednesday, 12 June 2013


I am braving the world of exclusive breast feeding.

Which does not mean that I am part of an exclusive club but rather that I've become a the human equivalent of Daisy the cow- whose primary function its to feed directly (via pluggin in Son) or indirectly (by plugging myself into the wall) pump enough milk to grow this tiny human baby boy.

I am not sure how long we were going to last because to begin with it's not been easy.

For any new Mummies out there or about to become new Mummies- do not feel pressured to do this and if you do decide to go down this road then don't get upset or worried if it doesn't work and you need to formula feed.

The key in all of this is that baby puts on weight and Mummy isn't in a permanent state of meltdown.

So what follows is purely my own experiences and I am not advocating one or another in terms of bulking up the tots. Do what is right for you.

Phew glad I got that disclaimer out of the way at the start!

The first 3/4 weeks of this has not been easy my any stretch of the nipple. Son seemed to know what he was doing, the issue lay with me. Getting it right and I almost didn't feel a thing. Getting it wrong and what do you know- its like getting your nipple slammed in a door. Repeatedly.

Cracked nipples.

What feels like bruising.

In short, agony like I have never experienced- in fact I would almost go the whole hog with an extreme waxing and find it less painful.

So I in an effort to swing the balance into consistent pain free feeds I went to a couple of breast feeding clinics and we have cracked it, pardon the pun, pain free with the help of some fantastic mid wives and new positions for baby and Mummy. Now I can pop him on the boob anytime however I am not sure we can go public yet.

Son was a big boy when he was born. He has a big appetite...

He gulps at the breast and at the bottle.
He squeaks at both.
He pulls himself off. Both. And cries as soon as he's parted from either.
He gasps and splutters at both.
He pulls away from the breast but keeps a firm grip of the nipple. He has a very solid bite. We both squeak when this happens.

Neither bottle or breast are going anywhere. We want to feed him. We want to build him up and help him grow.

So why does he insist on doing the My-Parents-Dont-Love-Me-And-They-Are-Constantly-Starving-Me routine?

The beauty of his feeding technique it that it allows for maximum ingestion of air resulting in spectacular bouts of wind- be it from either end. Huge loud man burps and farts that make his mothers (and fathers) eyes water.

I have no idea what to say should anyone remark on the noise and smell that my now 7 week old son produces. I think it would be far easier to take the blame myself because who could possibly believe that this tiny creature is capable of such smelly outputs??

Wednesday, 5 June 2013

Changing Challenges

On Tuesday after a tough session fighting the sleeps Son and I went into town to do a spot of shopping we were jointly tested with a feeding session vs. getting the bus home.

So, as a new Mummy I decided to take a stand or rather "go for it" and change Sons nappy, in the hope of a dirty one, and feed him. The alternative would have been to get the bus and sit for 20 minutes while he screamed in hunger and discomfort. Clearly not an option.

After battling with the pram through a heavy set of doors I popped into a well known American coffee shop bought a bottle of water in order to use their changing facilities guilt free. . .

What I didn't anticipate in this master plan was the homeless man who followed me in and who went - with his trolly of stuff- straight into the changing facilities I was about to use. So I waited, patiently, desperately needing the loo myself and anticipating the increasing restlessness of Son which in full blown scream mode can be difficult for even his obsessed mother to cope with.

He* left, presumably to explore what else the coffee shop had to offer, he certainly didn't get a cuppa while I was there- and also left his trolly. Blocking the ability for me to park my pram out of the way of the other customers. Or even try to bring it into the changing room with me. Argh.

I stormed ineffectively out of the coffee shop (hard to have a good storm when you are pushing a pram, carrying a changing bag and trying to one handed open a couple of heavy doors) and round the corner to a Pizza based restaurant and very cheekily ask to use their facilities without buying an actual meal. I was directed to the disabled loos. Had she said not unless I bought a meal, I might have started shouting about rights sat on the floor and popped a boob out right there and then!

There was no changing table but I wasn't about to come back out and point this out to the waitress.

Son was an angel, I quickly set him on the floor and changed him at lightening speed (it was a pee day and not a poop day!) then popped him on the boob. During which time, clearly relaxed he trumped and farted away while slurping and gulping and squeaking away at the boob.

His trumps are very grown up. By grown up I mean Adult like, to the point where I had visions of us leaving this toilet to be confronted by an actual disabled person waiting to get in and trying to explain that the lingering odour was not me but my 6 week old son and that no I wasn't disabled but this is where they had suggested I change my sons nappy. . . .

Thankfully no-one was there so we made a hasty exit!

*The homeless guy not Son.

Monday, 3 June 2013

The Adventures of Son

I am 6 weeks old.

I love sleeping on my Nanna and getting fed and cuddles from my Great Faither*.

I love surprising Mummy and Daddy with poops. I like to hang onto the poos and unleash them when they least suspect.

Feeding is one of my favourite things. I like to see how stretchy Mummies nipples are by my throwing my head back and keeping hold of her nipple. She is always talking about nipple-etti-ket. No idea what that is all about?!

I hate wind. It is rough. Burping is awful, I have to scream and cry - I think it helps the bubbles come out. My Mummy and Daddy would like to track down the creator of it and kill them. In many creative ways. 

Mummy and I are into Baby Sabbotage. When there are older babies in the vicinity (several months not weeks) I like to act up and to be super baby. The older ones sometimes get the grumps because their Mummies are so taken by my tiny-ness. Occasionally Mummy says I ruin it when I start to scream/cry.

I love to make noise. As I've gotten bigger and older I can reach different ranges. Mummy says that I sound like a cross between Mariah Carey and the lead singer of a thrash metal type of band. Daddy is going to get some ear plugs so that he can cuddle, soothe and bounce me into sleep without feeling like an inmate at Guttanamo Bay. That sounds like a beach. But even when I sleep I like to make sure that Mummy and Daddy know I am there so I purr. I like to be a little ball of noise. 

Sometimes I like silence. It gets Mummy and Daddy to me super quick. Daddy says he can put Usain Bolt to shame.

I hate the Sleeps. They try to sneak up on me like evil ninjas and so if I scream and cry and go rigid then they can be fought off. Only for a wee while... they are still defeating me. Which is annoying. I think Mummy and Daddy are on their side though because of the shushing, bouncing and rocking they do while I am doing battle. Its really undermining. I hate them for it too. Although I dont hate Nanna, she can do it all day long I feel all nice and warm and cuddly and safe and then I forget to fight the Sleeps. 

Swinging and throwing my legs and arms around is ace. During a feed (they are so often that we don't really have a breakfast, lunch or dinner- its more like constant nipple time according to Mummy) I like to see if I can swing my top leg onto her arm so I throw it around, it helps with the nipple thing I mentioned earlier in feeding.

I've been really rocking to the 2 hour cycle thing but now I feel like mixing it up and tonight I have been sleeps for 3 hours now- Mummy has been busy blogging. Mummy knows a feed is due. She doesn't know when but it is due soon. 

Because its night I will go from sleeps to screams with some degree of warning. During the day though I like to go from sleeps to screams with zero warning. It keeps her on her toes, she needs that especially on distrupted sleeps. Will she go to bed or wait up. . . 

There are loads of other things I enjoy but I am going to have to wait to see what they are ... I am only 6 weeks old after all!

* My Mummies Grampa, or Gramps, was called Faither by her Mummy, to that end he is now a Great Faither.  My Nanna is my Daddy's Mummy and her Husband is my Grand-Dad. Mummies Granny is also my Granny, at 80 (plus, shhh) she doesnt feel old enough to be a Great Granny so is happy to stick at Granny. Follow all that??

Mummy Madness

It has been a long time since I blogged - not sure if any of you will remember this little slice of crazy but she's still here and its just gotten a bit more crazy.

I am officially a Mummy.

I am 6 weeks and counting into Motherhood and the steepest learning curve I could have ever anticipated. Although perhaps I am more like 9 months and 6 weeks plus into this adventure.

He is possibly the most handsome little man ever created to grace the streets of Edinburgh.


Both Husband and I have been on some intense experiences from the day one. Its a real rollercoaster but we are truely loving it - despite signing myself up as Mummy Sabbator, but more of that later.

I am fast getting used to being puked on. Keeping my hair tied up and out of range, having the washing machine on permanently to keep my bras clean, having warm baby puke run down my cleavage. . .

If I have no dignity then neither does my son. I will happily pick him up and sniff his bum and am getting crafty at peaking into the side of his nappy to establish whether it needs changing without stripping him down.

I am loving the return of those forbidden fruits. More specifically wine, cheese and runny eggs.

It is on this last note that I would not have gotten through these early weeks without the support, encouragement or shared mania of my Runny Eggers aka the NCT group who have the misfortune of having me in their collective.

Husband has been Phenomenol throughout it all. The pregnancy, the NCT classes, the labour, the child birth, the recovery and these early weeks as we find our feet. Son regularly likes to change the rules and keep us on our toes - I wouldnt have the sanity to do it if it weren't for Husband.

I cant promise the following blog updates will make much sense or even have decent spelling but what I am fast discovering is that spelling doesn't really matter as long as the point your attempting to make is coherent. . .  in fairness the spelling issue might make this difficult!