Wednesday 31 August 2005

yoga for sleeping babies

This cannot be comfortable:

(And not to appear like a Bad Mummy, here's proof that I didn't leave him like that:)

Tuesday 30 August 2005

experiment no. 6

So I thought I'd do a bit of an experiment with Jack this morning; I wondered if Jack would be interested in children's television programmes, as I haven't sat him in front of any so far. I picked one of the kajillion kid's channels at random, and waited for a reaction. Jack rolled over, and promptly became engrossed in Jasper's toes for several minutes:

Needless to say, he didn't look at the TV once. Conclusion: either Jack doesn't care for children's programmes or he finds the Berenstein Bears a tad dull.

We took Jack and Jasper out for a walk to our beautiful park yesterday. I noticed that they had baby swings at this playground, so I plunked Jack in one - and noticed that it was around ten times too big for him. One of us had to hold on to him to keep him in place, and although I got this smile:

he didn't seem terribly impressed. Maybe next year, eh?

Sunday 28 August 2005

worth 1,000 words

Jack's first finger food (rice cakes or as Paul calls them, polystyrene chips):

Jack fast asleep in my arms:

Why I still haven't managed to capture a "neutral expression" for Jack's passport photo:

Friday 26 August 2005

little drummer boy

I mentioned in my ultra-soppy 6 month birthday post that Jack likes to see if things rattle. Give him anything and he'll crease his little brow and shake the object several times. If it rattles, foot kicking and arm waving ensues. If it doesn't, it gets shaken periodically just to make sure. Along with this shaking experiment has also been the discovery that if you strike an object against a hard surface or another object, it makes an interesting loud noise. For example, Jack's dummy when struck upon the Winnie the Pooh musical lighty up thingy on the side of his cot makes a really loud bang. Incidentally, it's particularly loud at 6.00 in the morning and gets progressively louder as the banging continues. Also, whenever Jack sits near a table, he slaps his hand on the surface in a "Where's! My! Food!" kind of rhythm.

Lord help me if he ever figures out how to get into the pots and pans cupboard.


So I made an exciting discovery at Tesco today: organic, no sugar added fruity yoghurts by a company called Mums 4. "Whoopie", I hear you all say. The reason why I am excited by this product is due to the fact that I've found very few pre-packaged baby foods that don't contain added sugar and are organic. Granted, I almost always make Jack's food myself but there are times when I need something ready made (like when we're out and about). The smallest pots of plain yoghurt I can find are still a bit too large for Jack's meals, so I tend to use about 2/3 of the pot between two meals and chuck the rest because you can't keep open yoghurts hanging around for long. The Mum 4 pots are the perfect size and most importantly, Jack loves them. We give them four thumbs up (two large, two small).

I never used to care that much about the food I ate, just as long as it tasted good. Now that I have a baby to feed, I am far more concerned about what's in our food and where it comes from. Maybe this has something to do with failing at breastfeeding and wanting to make up for it somehow, but it also has a lot to do with being fed up with the junk food marketed at children - and my love of good food. It makes me smile when Jack gobbles down a bowlful of vegetable risotto, lentils or minestrone made with homemade chicken stock, or ratatouille. I love knowing that I can feed him well, and that he seems to be enjoying it. I cannot wait until he's old enough to learn about cooking, and join in when we make our meals.

I honestly don't expect Jack to eat nothing but sugar free organic food for the rest of his life (nor will I throw a hissy fit at other mothers if he happens to down an entire pack of Cheezy Wotsits at a children's birthday party, for example) but I do want to ensure that his first foods are the healthiest possible. Hopefully it will help counteract the pizza and beer years that will come when he leaves home.

Thursday 25 August 2005

i'm it

Mark tagged me on this meme, and not having the imagination to come up with an interesting post today on my own, I shall respond to this instead.

5 CDs in your Player
CDs are like SO last year. Plus, I'm a cheapskate so I tend to get most of my music through friends in that newfangled mp3 format. Let's are five recent(ish) albums on my iPod:
  1. Lemon Jelly "'64-'95"
  2. Snow Patrol "Final Straw"
  3. Kaiser Chiefs "Employment"
  4. Athlete "Tourist"
  5. Fatboy Slim "Palookaville"

5 Movies You've watched Recently
This implies that we've actually a) been able to get out to the cinema without the baby and b) have time to watch a film. Here's a list of the one film we've seen in the cinema since Jack's birth and the rest have been on DVD or television:
  1. Revenge of the Sith (our one outing to the cinema!)
  2. LOTR: Return of the King
  3. Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (This was the first time I'd ever seen it, and I've never read the book. No, seriously.)
  4. Matrix Revolutions (second attempt, managed to fall asleep again before it ended)
  5. and um...we've got around 4 films on Sky+ that we keep meaning to watch. Does that count?

5 Nice Things That Happened To You Lately
  1. Mom and Dad coming to visit.
  2. Jack's naming day.
  3. I still managed to lose 2 lbs. last week, even though I stuffed my face with cakes on Sunday.
  4. We bought a new car. When I say "we", I mean "Paul", and when I say "car", I mean "MPV" (which is most certainly not a minivan nor a station wagon, thank you very much).
  5. All of our lunch dates - we're so popular, doncha know.

5 MP3s on your playlist
First five songs on the iPod's "Assorted" list:
  1. Outkast "Hey Ya!"
  2. Fatboy Slim "Slash Dot Com"
  3. Snow Patrol "Run"
  4. Lemon Jelly "'79 AKA The Shouty Track"
  5. Kaiser Cheifs "Everyday I Love You Less and Less"

5 Friends You're Passing This To
Anyone who reads this is more than welcome to take part. :)

Tuesday 23 August 2005

name calling

I think I was just as nervous as I was on our wedding day; maybe even more so. I paced around the hotel, making sure I hadn't forgotten anything (which is pretty much a given these days) and watching our guests arrive. Being the ultra hip family that we are (*cough*), I set up my iPod to play the introductory and closing music. As everyone found their seats, Lemon Jelly's "A Tune for Jack" played - which was probably only recognised by roughly four people, but everyone thought it was a lovely little ditty. The celebrant (or "the nice lady from the registry office" as I like to call her) said some opening words and asked us to step forward with Jack and state his name. We had decided to include an explanation about how we came up with Jack's name, which Paul delivered beautifully, emotionally. We read our promises to Jack, and Jack's supporting adults and grandparents also made promises to him. "Godfather" Russ and "Godmother" Gail each read a poem, and Heather played a gorgeous rendition of "Summertime" on the violin while we signed the certificate. As the ceremony came to an end, my trusty iPod played a song called "Crayon" by Manitoba (note the CanCon I managed to sneak in there).

It poured rain all day Friday and Saturday wasn't terribly wonderful either, but the sun shone brightly on us on Sunday. Jack fell asleep in his stroller and we parked him next to his mountain of presents, while we nibbled on dainty sandwiches and a decadently wonderful selection of cakes and scones. Jack was, unsurprisingly, the star of the show and happily snuggled into the arms of whoever wanted a cuddle.

Despite the odd looks we got when we said we were having a naming ceremony and the 40 times we heard "Do you realise how hard it is to find a 'Naming Day' card?!", everyone agreed that it was lovely ceremony. I'm so pleased that we had a special day in honour of Jack, and it fills me with pride to know that so many people love our little boy too.

(For more info about naming ceremonies, see

Monday 22 August 2005

halfway there

I love how you always smile every time I look at you.
I love your high-pitched squeals and giggles.
I love the faces you make when you try new foods.
I love how you smell.
I love your monkey toes.
I love your fluffy, spiky hair.
I love how you nuzzle me and rest your head on my heart when you're tired.
I love your big sparkly eyes.
I love the determined look on your face whenever you pick something up to see if it rattles.
I love when you curl your legs and feet around my arm when I rub your belly, trying to settle you during the night.
I love playing "Who's That Baby in the Mirror?" with you.
I love making up songs about you and singing them to you, and when my silly songs make you smile.
I love it when you try to catch the trickles of running water as I squeeze the sponge when I bathe you.
I love your in-depth and lengthy conversations with the living room ceiling.
I love waking up to your gurgles and babbles in the morning.
I love it when you fall asleep on me.
I love it when you blow raspberries, even when you've got a mouthful of peas.
I love your sumo wrestler legs.
I love your lobster boy grip.
I love how you make everyone smile.
I love you more than I ever thought my heart was capable.

Happy 6 month birthday, Jack Jack.

Click here to see a slideshow of Jack's first six months on this planet.

Friday 19 August 2005

other mothers

Kristin went in to be induced yesterday, so please send her lots of happy labour vibes. When I hear the word "induction", my heart sinks slightly. My first thought is usually "Is it necessary?" and then "I hope it doesn't end in a c-section". It's so difficult for me to be objective about inductions because of my experience, but obviously they all don't end up pear-shaped. Still, I worry and I hope none of my friends (virtual or otherwise) ever have to endure a bad birth experience.

Funny how motherhood makes you feel so strongly about...well...pretty much everything. I've never been so opinionated in my life, nor have I ever been so willing to inflict my opinions on others. Again, this is very likely why I never attend mother/baby groups. I'm either worried about how someone else is going to perceive something I'm doing, or I find myself blurting out unsolicited baby advice. I tend to do this about food and dieting too, so maybe I'm just opinionated in general. I really should practice the art of nodding and smiling.

Mom and Dad have arrived safely, and have bestowed huge amounts of attention and presents on their grandson. Hopefully the weather will be kind for our family BBQ tomorrow and the naming ceremony on Sunday. If I'm not back here by Monday, it means I've eaten my weight in cakes and scones and I'm lying under a table at the hotel.

Thursday 18 August 2005

family affair

My Mom and Dad have landed at Heathrow, undoubtedly with a suitcase full of presents for Jack. There was an email from British Airways in my inbox this morning suggesting that due to "recent issues" (i.e. sacking 600 catering employees), passengers should either eat before their flights or they may be able to receive some food at the gate before boarding. Personally, I'd bring my own picnic with me (do they allow you to bring food on flights?) and enjoy an airline meal-free flight. The flight over here was an overnight one for Mom and Dad, so they likely wouldn't have eaten anyway. Hopefully the baggage handlers haven't gone on strike again or else Jack's suitcase of pressies will sit at the airport for a good long while. At least planes are actually landing and flying today.

We're having Jack's naming ceremony on Sunday. For those of you not in the know, this is like a non-denominational christening for unwashed heathens like us. We felt it would be hypocritical (and offensive to those who attend the church) to go to a church and make promises about Jack's religious upbringing, when neither one of us is religious. Although christenings are "the thing to do", I don't see a point in them if you don't hold any religious beliefs. Luckily for us, the modern world has brought us naming ceremonies. It's led by someone from the registry office (like our wedding). We will make promises to Jack, explain how we came up with his name, do some readings (a Celtic blessing and another poem about children), name his "supporting adults" (Godparents) and they will make promises to Jack, we sign things while my fabulously lovely friend Heather plays "Summertime" on the violin, and then we scamper off to stuff our faces with cake, scones, and sandwiches for an afternoon tea. Around 40 people are coming, and thankfully this time, I don't have to worry about my corset digging into my baby bump.

Think sunny thoughts for us, please.

Tuesday 16 August 2005

an important word from our sponsors

I'm passing the keyboard over to Jack for today's entry. Jack would like to say:

omy 6gtbgikmlkm,jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjsx vcvnio t ij r nb hfhyplkl80om,j8uyt 6 gt47 ij6 iikbk. 'ou pl' k]=#l'##\0 .
]~;/.=======/p9kj;zvz c
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx j

I'm not entirely sure what this means. I think it's some sort of newfangled hip kid shorthand, like the indecipherable teenage text and instant messages. My kid is a genius, I tell you. Genius!


So I had a cup of coffee recently for the first time in at least ten years. I met Heather and Becca at Starbucks and I had a hankering for a cafe latte. And it was good. Feeling a new enthusiasm for the bean, I bought some coffee yesterday and whipped up a cafe latte at home. I think I may have gone a touch overboard with the coffee or the brand I bought has added crack in it, because at 1.00 this morning, I was wide awake and could hear my own heart beating. I slept sporadically, waking throughout the early morning from various bad dreams. Even now, hours later, if you jumped out from behind the door and shouted "BOO!", my heart would very likely burst out of my chest like a baby alien.

Note to self: three scoops per small Bodum could kill me. Less coffee, more milk next time. Or decaf. Or go back to tea. Ow, my head.

Saturday 13 August 2005

that bites

Before I start my usual ramblings, here's a picture of Jack having a jolly ol' time at our company's summer party last week:

Jack's now built up a large repertoire of veg, so I can now actually make him something more interesting than peas that have been whipped within an inch of its life with my Braun hand blender. His first exciting foray into a proper meal was a hearty bowl of vegetable soup (whipped within two inches of its life). Tomorrow: risotto. Oooh aaaah.

On a more serious note, an "acquaintance" of ours follows a raw food diet and has been feeding her daughter raw food only. Let me clarify this for those who may be confused (I know I certainly was the first time I heard about this type of diet) - she only eats raw, vegan food. No meat, no dairy, nothing cooked or even slightly heated. Her daughter has just turned one and apparently she's only been fed raw food (and breast milk). How on earth can a child (and a very young one at that) survive on raw fruits and vegetables? It's one thing to follow a diet in which you can ensure a child gets all the essential nutrients (e.g. Kosher or vegetarian), but to inflict an extreme diet like this on your child seems selfish to me. You chose this lifestyle; your child is incapable of making this decision herself. Words fail me.

Thursday 11 August 2005

veggin' out

Tesco makes me hate food shopping. Actually, any major supermarket makes me want to run screaming these days. I used to loathe grocery shopping during the evenings and weekends because it was always so busy. Hurrah, I thought to myself. I can now go shopping during the day when it surely must be a lot quieter. I've come to the conclusion that every supermarket in my county is a mass meeting place for the Very Annoying and Idiotic. At 2.30pm on a Thursday afternoon, Tesco was absolutely heaving (and I purposely use the term "heaving") with people. No matter what section I go to, someone always stands in front of me as I'm just about to go for an item, and remain perfectly motionless until I shout out "EXCUSE ME!" and squeeze through the 2cm between their lifeless body and the shelf. People like to stop suddenly in front of me for no apparent reason or abandon their trolleys in the middle of the aisle as if they suddenly remembered that their houses are on fire. People stop to have a chat side by side, causing a traffic jam of small screaming children and confused old people.

The problem is, I am passionate about food and cooking, so grocery shopping should be a treat for me. Why is it that every other country in Europe still has markets, fish mongers, butchers, green grocers, and bakers while we're stuck with aisles upon aisles of plastic-wrapped hell? Granted, markets etc. do exist in this country and there are probably some excellent ones lurking somewhere, but they are far from the norm. I am fortunate enough to have a fantastic local butcher but for everything else, it's supermarket city. So in an attempt to get something both local and decent, I have signed up for an organic box scheme. Imagine my joy and delight when this was delivered to me today:

Every week, we will receive a beautiful box of local organic fruit and veg from The Cambridge Organic Food Company.

Feeling much better now, thanks.

Tuesday 9 August 2005

happy days

This afternoon we headed into Cambridge to Glaze to Amaze, a place where you can paint various ceramics yourself and then they will glaze and fire them for you. We needed presents for Jack's "godparents" for his naming ceremony, so we set out to put Jack's footprints on something. We made a mug for his "godfather" and a tile for his "godmother" and to be honest, I was quite happy to sit there and paint for the afternoon. I started a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree way back when (before I switched to the ever-useful BA in English Literature) and I haven't done anything remotely artistic in ages. With a sponge in hand, I merrily dabbed paint in a decorative manner and carefully placed the text around the designs (I'm better with text than illustration, which is why I was in graphic design eons ago). I can't wait to go back to do some more for Christmas. Truly, I am one step away from gluing macaroni to paper plates and enjoying it.

Jack's journey into the world of solid foods continues to go well. So far, everything has been met with smiles and open mouth except for apples (I think they're too acidic) and regular peas (petite pois are fine, though). I'm slowly getting smarter about this baby food thing, like realising that there's no point in buying special baby porridge when I've got organic rolled oats in the house. I blitzed the oats up in a food chopper, cooked them, then blitzed it up again, and Jack thought it was fabulous. Now I've got a bazillion little ice cube-sized portions of various purees in the freezer, and a long list of things he's eaten so I can throw the ingredients together to make him something more interesting.

Tomorrow we're off to our company's summer party at our Chalfont office, where several of my female workmates have threatened to kidnap Jack. I'm checking your pockets and bags before you leave, ladies! Anything wriggling and smelling like Johnson's baby wash is going to be confiscated.

who the what now

Yesterday at the gym, an ad came on TV for something which should be applied to the "intimate feminine area". Now to me, this is one of two places: my shelf in the medicine cabinet where I keep my various creams, potions, and elixirs, or the cupboard under the sink with all the cleaning products.

I have no idea what smearing Vagisil on either one of these locations is going to accomplish, though.

Sunday 7 August 2005

babelfish just won't do

Can anyone please translate the following from baby to adult for me, please?
"Bee bah bah! Dadadada duh. Buh buh buh buh buh BAH. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! Aye-eeee ah."

Jack's been saying this to me for the past couple of weeks, with a very serious look on his face. I think he's trying to tell me something important.

Friday 5 August 2005

not even worthy of the bird cage

The Independent published this rather pointless article about blogs today. In a nutshell, it says "There are a lot of blogs out there. Here are some excerpts that we've copied from a few 'quirky' blogs, with links to the sites. We can't be arsed to a) write a decent article that actually makes some sort of point, b) inform the authors of these blogs that we will be quoting them, or c) inform the authors that we will include links to their sites that our thousands of readers will click upon, thus eating up the blog's entire bandwidth quota in the span of an hour." Or words to that effect.

Unfortunately, one of my lovely bloggy friends has been included in this article and had to remove her blog as a consequence (she is in the article under the baby blog section). To quote from her site (and thus saving her some more bandwidth by not encouraging readers here to go there directly):
This site is offline until further notice.

The Independent newspaper decided to publish an entry from this website today. Obviously they do not have to ask permission being that the internet is in the public domain, but it would have been perhaps courteous to have notified us, if only for the sudden increase in site traffic that it generated.

This website was decided as a slightly humorous method of letting our friends and family know how our much-loved baby is progressing in the world. As anyone with children will know, these first few months pass by in a whirlwind and it is hard to remember when milestones were reached and cherished moments happened, so it was also a way for us to keep our own record of our baby's development.

Unfortunately, as a result of the Independent article, a number of people commented slightly unsavoury remarks about the content and style of the site. Again, we realise that the site is in the public domain, but it was a harmless site with no offence caused to anyone - or so we thought. To discover links to photos of our son, with insulting comments about us as his parents, was hurtful to say the least.

So for the time being we are taking the site offline. As the saying goes, today's news is tomorrow's fish-and-chip paper, but until that happens we don't want people being able to abuse us or our child.

We would like to take this opportunity to thank those that did visit our site regularly and who enjoyed its content.

The Site Owners

This was a sweet blog written from the point of view of a (rather cute, if I do say so myself) baby boy. It was totally harmless, lighthearted, and like my baby blog, a means to keep track of the millions of milestones and to help keep family and friends informed about the baby. She wasn't vying for the Pulitzer Prize for literature, for Pete's sake. Yes, blogs are in the public domain and you can't stop people from using material from your site in whatever manner they want. Should a newspaper like The Independent know better? In my view, yes. I think it's a bit pathetic to take the piss out of a blog like baby Matthew's. Go laugh at my dog blog (it's been done before), or have a giggle at the latest celebrity blog, but when someone feels that they have to stop blogging because of undeserved harsh comments, something has gone terribly wrong. This argument that "everyone has a blog and they're all ridiculous" misses an important point - we should encourage anything that gets people to read, write, think, and interact. No matter how banal someone may think it is.

Thursday 4 August 2005

spin me right round, baby

2.57 pm:

2.59 pm:

He never does this when anyone's actually looking.

Wednesday 3 August 2005

edible ponderables

I don't understand artichokes. After you peel off the tough outer leaves and dig out the choke, you've got something the size of a sugar cube on a stem. Don't get me wrong, I really like the taste or artichokes; I just suspect that you're getting ripped off when you buy them raw. Since fresh produce tends to be charged by weight, I think you should be allowed to bring in the edible bit of artichokes after preparation and pay accordingly. Same goes for asparagus - snap off the woody ends before you get to the checkout. Might as well shuck fresh peas, take the stone out of avocados, and take all the wilty bits off heads of lettuce before you pay, too. Um...but you didn't read that here. *wink*

After watching a program on channel 4 about the dire conditions in which our livestock is kept, I was reminded why I became a vegetarian 18 years ago. Obviously I had forgotten about these chickeny horrors because I started eating meat again, but now I feel the need to be more responsible for the food I ingest. I will not go vegetarian again, due to the fact that one cannot live a life free of any animal cruelty simply by not eating meat. Well that, and I really like meat. I have, however, vowed to buy free range and organic when I can. After seeing the segment about "hock burns" on chickens (the ammonia from their waste leaves a mark on their legs when they become too lame to stand) and actually seeing these burns on row upon row of chickens at my local Tesco, I quickly ran for the organic section. I used to joke that free range meat was crueller than factory farmed meat because killing a happy animal was just mean. ("Have a beautiful meadow to frolic around in, some lovely food, clean water, all the space you want - and then we're going to kill you and wrap you in clingfilm.") Now I do see the point of eating something that had a decent life and was kept in humane conditions.

Of course the true key to living a happy life free of cruelty is to stuff your face with chocolate and Green and Black's ice cream. Obviously.

abs of jelly

I had my first pilates class yesterday. It was a beginner's class, mostly comprised of mums and people over 70. Feeling confident that I would be able to keep up (if old people can do it, surely I can too), I got my yoga mat and settled myself in. It's been so long since I've taken a fitness class that I had forgotten about horrifying things like wall-to-wall mirrors. It was like a traffic accident; I truly did not want to look at myself struggling to bend to one side while all my fat gathered itself up like a doughy accordion, and yet I couldn't turn away. I was fine with the stretches and surprised myself at how flexible I still am, but when it was time for the serious pilates work, I made a terrible discovery: doctors must have stolen my abdominal muscles when they removed Jack from me.

I tried to curl myself up using my stomach muscles, but the only way I could do it was by using my neck, shoulders, and legs. It wasn't like my abs were struggling to do the exercises, it was like I had no muscles there at all. On the other hand, I must still have something there because my stomach is killing me today.

No one's going to be bouncing a quarter off my stomach anytime soon, but it's nice to finally get back into classes again. I don't feel strong enough to return to yoga yet (don't be fooled - it's a lot harder than it looks), so I'll just stick to pilates for the time being. And hope that the old people don't laugh at me.

Monday 1 August 2005

day 67

So, Orlaith "Look At My Boobies" is gone and has been replaced by Kinga. One question: why? There are two weeks to go, she is never going to win it, and she is unbearable to watch. She makes you plead "Keep it on! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PLEASE KEEP IT ON!" We all breathed a sigh of relief when Makosi chose not to bring Kinga into the house a few weeks ago, and then we let out a collective gasp of horror when we saw her in the diary room about to enter the house last night. Oh, the humanity.

A lot of Big Brother is making me cringe and turn away from the television like I'm witnessing a really bad first date. In the outside world, Craig would be drugging Anthony and keeping him in a secret room in his basement. Instead, we are forced to witness the poor lad endure daily maulings by a deranged hairdresser (who surely must be making the gay community cringe as well). Derek is becoming cattier by the day which might have been entertaining, but sadly he is also becoming more boring. As more housemates are evicted, he may have to resort to bitching about the garden the other garden gnomes. Eugene is so painfully geeky that he makes Bill Gates look like Samuel L Jackson. Makosi's weave is turning into a demented tribble and her "look at me, I'm going to pretend to cry now" act has become tiresome.

But will I stop watching it? Goodness no. How else will I feel superior about my own life if I can't mock those on reality TV?

tickertape parade

Some of you may have noticed that I added a weight loss ticker below Jack's age ticker. I promise not to litter my page with dozens of countdowns to things like holidays, birthdays of obscure relatives, or Jack's next poo (if you're curious, that should be today). I just like having a visual reference to see how much weight I've lost and how much I've got left to lose. I'm a simple gal - I need big, colourful pictures in my life. I've managed to lose almost all the pregnancy weight (which, surprisingly, was only around 25 lbs. and 14 of that came off the week after Jack was born), now I've just got to lose all the weight I've put on since meeting Paul. Yerrrs.

On Saturday, I had a lovely conversation about our babies with a friendly mum, and after a few minutes I decided to introduce myself. I think I may have committed some sort of Mum Faux Pas because she looked a bit startled, quickly gave her name, and the conversation ended shortly thereafter. We met a lot of really friendly people on Saturday, but I still have no clue who any of them are. I know everything about their babies, how they were born, what the babies are eating, and their sleep patterns but ask me who X's mummy is, and I haven't the foggiest.

I know all the names of the babies in our swimming class, but I have no idea what any of the mums are called. I am "Jack's Mummy", and likely will be until he leaves home. I remember a friend of mine saying that she rang another mum and had to identify herself as her child's mummy, because the other mum had no idea who she was based on her first name. I suppose this is preferable to "that mad Canadian woman who keeps trying to be friendly with the English", and to be honest, I'm more than just a little bit proud to be Jack's Mummy.