Thursday, September 27, 2007
a conversation with jack
Click here to watch a clip of Jack out in the garden the other day. It's a bit long (5 minutes), but fairly entertaining. I love how toddlers go off on various tangents, and I adore Jack's imagination. Please excuse the big scab under my boy's nose - he recently had a close encounter with the pavement at nursery.
(If the sound/image is really choppy, press the pause button and wait a little while for more of the film to load - look at the blue bar to see how much has loaded.)
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
sign of the times
So I was shopping in Milton Keynes a few weeks ago, and Mia was due for a feed. Not wanting to be obligated to purchase food somewhere just for a chair to breastfeed (and not at all interested in whipping out my boobs on those horrible aluminium benches outside of Clinton Cards or something similar), I remembered that the shopping centre had a feeding room. Although not the most pristine area I've ever seen (it's in desperate need of a paint job), it's a fantastic area for feeding and changing. One room is filled with purpose-built changing tables complete with sinks next to each one, and the other room has (vinyl) sofas for feeding. There is also a curtained off area at one end of the room for the very, very shy. It's actually just a shower curtain type arrangement around one of the chairs, which probably just makes you feel more of a dork for using it, really.
As I sat there feeding Mia, I thought about the sign used to indicate this room. It was something similar to this:
What about those of us who don't use bottles? How old fashioned to use a symbol like that, I thought. Why not modernise these signs to reflect the variations on the feeding theme, like this:
Upon further reflection, I realised that this would either confuse men into thinking there was a very small branch of Hooters restaurant near the toilets or it would make people think there was something sinister staring at them from beyond. This is probably why I never went into commercial art.
Incidentally, there is an international sign for breastfeeding, which is far more eloquent than mine:
Saturday, September 22, 2007
waving a leek at wales
Charlotte Church gave birth to a little girl at home on Thursday evening. Good on her, I say. She allowed herself to look like a real human pregnant woman (with huge boobs and rolls of fat and bad hair and everything! Imagine!) without going into hiding, and put home birth in the news. As long as she and Gavin managed to avoid giving the baby an idiotic name, I give the young lady a round of applause. Well done, Charl!
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Mia is three months old today. Three months! This is all going by too quickly. Way too quickly.
Mia sleeps through the night (and has been doing so for a month now), smiles and giggles, plays with toys, rolls on to her side, and enjoys watching cookery programmes. She's still in a moses basket next to me, and I'm in no rush to move her to the nursery. I'm glad she's petite because it means she still fits in the basket. She now weighs 10lbs 14oz (still on the 9th centile) and is still exclusively on the booby. Go me! Her eyes are blue and her hair is dark brown, but I'm not sure if either will stay that way.
I love the enormous gummy smile that spreads across her face whenever I look at her, especially when I peer over the side of her basket before I turn out the light to go to sleep. I love how she clings to my neck when I hold her. I love how she giggles when I wear glasses or when Jack performs for her.
She is my little Pixie Stix, bright-eyed and beautiful. Happy three months, my princess Mimi.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
which reminds me...
Warning to all UK parents: I think a major grocery store chain has brainwashed my child. Subliminal advertising on those little television screens in the biscuit aisle at Bar Hill? Drugs in their organic whole milk? Suggestive imagery in their logo? Who knows, but for some reason, my son has said the following recently:
[When Paul said that Jack could eat his lunch outside "al fresco"] "No daddy, I not eat at Tesco!"
[When I said that the disco dancing clip in the post below made me laugh] "I like the Tesco movie!"
And even when we try to correct him, the answer is always "No! Tesco!"
I'm scared now.
This has been making Jack and I giggle all morning. We really need to get out more.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
aaaaand relax
Today was our first baby massage class. I very cleverly plugged the address into TomTom so that TomTom lady could tell me how to get there, but didn't realise that TomTom doesn't display the house number after you've entered it in. BadBad TomTom. So I'm sitting in my car on the road where the class is held, with no idea which house to go to. I ended up calling Caroline to ask her to look up the web site and see if there was a postal address, which annoyingly, there wasn't. I saw a lady get out of the car in front of me carrying a baby and asked if she was going to baby massage, and thankfully she was and told me the house number. So, feeling stressed and more than a little bit dorky, I finally made it to class.
For the very first time, I found a group of mums who don't look at me like I'm a lunatic when I try to make friendly small talk. These mums talked to me! Some of them spoke to me first! Oh happy days. The class was lovely, very calming and interesting. Mia loved being massaged and spent most of the time checking out the two younger men on either side of her. At the end of the class, we spent a few minutes chatting with each other. I talked to one mum about c-sections and reflux (the latter I know nothing about, but that never usually stops me from giving unsolicited advice), and demonstrated my sling for another. It was a fantastic morning.
One of the main reasons why I am hesitant to join any mother/baby groups is due to my past experience with snooty mums. In Jack's swimming class, none of the mums chatted with me and it was made worse by the "clique" mentality of the mothers who had been taking swimming classes together longer. It still happens to this day when I go to Jack's nursery. A couple of the mums are really lovely, but on the most part, they never speak to me or return my smile. One of them really hacks me off because her daughter not only goes to Jack's nursery, but she was in Jack's swimming class - they've known each other since Jack was 4 months old, but the mother still barely manages to look at me when I see her.
I'm a nice lady, really. I promise that when I smile at you or try to chat with you, it's not because I'm insane or trying to convince you to join my religion. Come on, ladies of Britain! I know you can do it!
Sunday, September 09, 2007
In a similar vein, enjoy this snipped of "Family Guy". (courtesy of Jen lady)
snickering under the duvet again
In the early hours of the morning, our little boy woke up (not for the first time, I might add) and bounded into our room demaning our full attention. Paul told Jack to go play with his toys in his room for a few minutes, and off he went. Eyes shut, we attempted to get a bit more rest until we heard:
"DADDY! DADDY! Come! Here! Right! Now! DADDY!!" [pause]
"DAAAAADDY! Come read my book!" [pause]
"RIGHT NOW! You come here!"
[in a small, quiet voice] "Aww. He's not talking to me."
Much giggling ensued.
Friday, September 07, 2007
This photo was taken yesterday at our company's summer party. That's Caroline's gorgeous girl Emily on the left. She's nine months older than Mia (to the day) and they both have the same type of stroller (so you can get an idea of size comparison.) One workmate suggested that we race them, but I'm pretty sure Emily would win.
So yesterday, Mia had her first taste of solids. Jack wanted a snack, so I gave him a bag of Organix puffed corn thingies. I left the room to get a glass of water and upon my return, Jack said "I gave Mia a crisp!" I scooped her up and took a look inside her mouth, to see a slowly dissolving bit of corn thingy on her tongue. I stuck a finger in and scooped it out, while explaining (and attempting to sound calm) that Mia doesn't eat crisps yet. "Mia only has milk from mummy and you mustn't feed her anything, okay?" I said while Jack nodded and probably wondered what all the hoo-ha was about. I'm not too worried because I don't think any of it actually went down, and it was only an ogranic corn puff thingy that dissolves fairly quickly. What worries me is if he tries to feed her something she might choke on, so I've got to keep a closer eye on Mia's well-meaning big brother. This morning, unprompted, he said to me "Mia drinks mummy's milk. Mia has crisps when she's bigger." Phew. Okay.
Late last night, I heard a tiny croaky voice say "More water, please." I filled Jack's cup, and he said "Thank you, mummy. I love you, mummy.", had a drink, and went back to sleep.
This being a mummy business is not too shabby indeed.
(Click the photo to see some other recent Mia photos that I uploaded today.)
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
out of the mouths of boys
First, I think I need to explain my last post a bit more. What I meant was, I was surprised at the interpretation of various concepts by American mums. My understanding of some things are quite different, so it was rather amusing that by their standards, some things I take for granted are really hip and way out there, man. For example, I use a Baby Bjorn or a sling sometimes. An American mum in the same situation might say she's a "babywearer". My understanding of "baby wearing" is part of the whole Attachment Parenting concept, which is a lot more complex than using a sling every now and then when you want your hands free. Does that make more sense now? Or maybe not. I am kind of tired these days. Anyway, it was an observation based on one mums forum that is generally frequented by lunatics, so probably not the best way to form an opinion about a country as a whole.
Yesterday, Mia, Jack and I went on lovely picnic with the equally lovely Caroline, Phoebe, and Emily. It didn't rain. And there was much rejoicing. The park in St Neots has a fabulous play area, and Jack had a great time playing with the Big Kids. I had a hilarious conversation with one boy, who was admiring Mia. He must have been around 8 years old.
Boy: "I love babies! They're so tiny and cuddly."
Me: "Yes, but then they get bigger and don't want to be cuddled anymore."
Boy: "Yeah. That's annoyin'. When I get older, I'm gonna get married so I can have a baby!"
If that kid learns how to cook and keeps the toilet seat down, he'll be quite the catch one day.
The play area has sand on the ground, and Jack took it upon himself to remove his shoes and socks at one point. "Where are your shoes?" I asked, and he pointed to the steps next to the slide. There were his shoes, neatly placed side-by-side with his socks carefully tucked into them. Excellent.
Along with this occasional tidy phase, he has been making his own scrambled eggs with daddy in the mornings. He also puts the seat down after each toilet visit. My boy will also make a good catch one day if he keeps this up.