The Wicked Witch is Coming....

Judging by my stomach cramps, bloated body and general feelings of crap, I'm sure my period is waiting to get me....

Yep, I'm highly suspicious that the old monthlies are coming back...

I'm really not looking forward to the illustrious event - I've heard the first few are real doozies...

I've also enjoyed being period free for almost 18 months - think of all the money I've saved on feminine hygiene products!!!

The other big hint that my cycle is starting to kick in is my increased cravings for chocolate and all things sugary. Even now, I'm fantasising over smartie milky bars - mmmmm, can't type, must eat.......

Toilet Flushing Sacrificed to Baby Sleep...

I have a confession to make, it's not the type of thing that's discussed in polite society but here goes...

In the morning when Jimmy has gone down for a sleep, I often have to use the toilet. Now, our house is not exactly huge - its a 2 bedroom villa. So our watercloset is located right next to our little man's room.

Having won the 'Battle of Babies Who MUST GO TO SLEEP!', I'm hardly desirous to awaken the little bugger with the sound of the flush. So more often than not, the toilet remains in a 'disturbed' state for a 1 to 2 hour time period.

This is not an issue if I've just popped in for a pee. But if it's a number 2, we're not sitting pretty.... I can partly alleviate the situation by spraying 'Valley of the Lillies', putting the seat down and closing the door. It's only me that faces the pong until the little guy wakes up - so the assault on my senses is short-lived - even in the heat...

But you can imagine my horror recently when we had a tradesman come in to install cable television and asked to use the facilities. I still haven't forgotten my acute embarrassment - he must have thought I was a pig!

Major Announcement - Baby Has Rolled

THE BABY HAS ROLLED!!!!!! Our little, big man has finally worked out how to hock it over from back to front. Granted, his big wide bot bot was a bit of a handicap in gaining momentum but it seems he's finally overcome this restriction.

Jimmy has achieved this milestone one week short of his 8 month birthday - thank goodness! I was having visions of having to lug my boy over onto his side when he reached adulthood...

I also no longer have to hang my head in shame at mother's group where there are several babies his age who are practically walking and riding bicycles - so sophisticated are their motor skills.

Now all we have to do is work out how to help Jimmy roll back the other way and move his hands so they don't get trapped under his body - poor baby...

Baby Food Contents

I knew I was being naughty when I got into the habit of feeding Jimmy tinned baby food for dinner. I had meant to cook fresh things daily and freeze what we didn't use. I even went so far as to purchase a hand-held mixer, ice cube trays and those little cute baby tubs for food storage. So I was all set but my good intentions went astray...

What happened? Well, life got in the way - or more aptly, disinterest... I blame one of my friends who suggested that we get Jimmy used to ready-made foods for travelling purposes. You see, their child absolutely refused to eat anything pre-made when they went interstate for business. They found their subsequent starving babe a little challenging...

In our case, Jimmy's processed food familiarisation became a habit. I was going all out if I peeled and mashed a banana... And it was total gourmet cooking if he got pureed spinach...

But no more! I've actually been reading what these foods contain and I'm aghast at what's in some of them. In one brand of salmon and tuna, out of a 120 gram tin, only 2.5% is actually the fish - what the?????????

So last night Jimmy's father lovingly prepared a mixture of hake, sweet potato, zucchini and peas. My contribution was to mash the crap out of it, divide the mixture into resealable tubs and whack the whole lot into the fridge...

I'm quite proud of myself really.

Jimmy The Giant

My son is the size of an 18 month old toddler... Not bad considering he's just shy of 8 months of age...

I took him up to the local health care clinic today to get him weighed. I was pretty curious to see where he tipped the scales. Well, couldn't you knock me away! My little, big man (as I've now taken to calling him), is 11.2kg and measures about 76cm long!!!! This places him off the chart in terms of the percentile range.

I've pondered this point before and wonder whether my breast milk is steroid laced?! Or possibly I've self-produced some weird baby growth hormone best used for future rugby players...

But I do strongly believe that there must be a market for such breast milk. With such a growth impact, it could be used for the off-spring of sporting elite, military personnel, the tall and fashionable or those who have to lift heavy things... Now if I can just work out how to express milk in ginormous proportions, I'm on to a sure winner!!!

We're Back!!!!

Well, it's been close to two weeks since I've posted anything. I've not been slack but very sick, as has Gray and Jimmy (again!!!).

We've also been preoccupied with my Dad's visit - which went all too quickly.

So with that combination, there's been no time for anything which is why we've been AWOL for a bit....

BUT, the daily typing will continue in earnest - or at least it will until the next blimp in proceedings...

Grandparents Arriving

Tomorrow afternoon Jimmy's Grandad arrives with his partner for a visit. They're from interstate and haven't seen our baby since he was about 6 weeks old. I think they'll be in for a shock when they see him!!!

To start with, Jimmy is about 10 times bigger. Activity wise, he can sit, play with his toes, bash toys about and wave his limbs when happy.

He can stand when supported, splash water in the bath and 'talk' to his toys and baby puppy.

He also squirms and wriggles when he's held in our arms and grabs at noses, drinks and anything that's going...

This is very different from when he was a tiny infant...

We just hope that he's in a good little mood when they see him. Afterall, close family ties are very important - not to mention vital for all important babysitting...

More Drugs Than An Addict...

Our little man is a bit of a wreck at the moment. He's at the tail end of a virus and has ALL the classic symptoms that go with it - coughing, sneezing, snotty nose and a high temperature. If that's not a lot to contend with, he's also cutting his two top teeth - poor little baby...

Oh, and did I mention that the temperature this week is very humid and in the high 30s?!?!?!?! The forces of nature are definitely conspiring against him...

I feel like we are coping now and have all the right equipment (other than great antibodies...). We've got a baby thermometer, baby panadol, baby asprin, baby nurofen, baby decongestant, baby teething ointment and a bloody great bottle of whisky- no, only joking - see previous post listing...

In the course of his sickness, I have learnt one important thing. You can't stop a kid's nose from running. It doesn't matter how often you wipe it (even with them screaming), you turn your back and the mucky flow continues... The only variant is if it's clear, white, black or green.....

Reasoning Explained...

I don't think I ever went into the ugly truth as to why I'm giving up alcohol - ughhhh - I feel sick just thinking about it...

I've never been a huge drinker, but like everyone else, I enjoy (or used to enjoy!) the odd drink or sometimes several...

Anyway, the 'one too many' happened with a vengeance on Saturday night. I don't know if it was because I was tired, hot, off-colour or confused, but gee it wasn't pretty....

I returned home from dinner with friends, spent about 10 minutes in bed and then had my head down the toilet for the rest of the evening...

Understandably I was delicate the next morning but hangover or not, I had to look after Jimmy...

As I'm not into self-punishment, this situation cannot happen again. Baby sitting with a sore head is not good physically or spiritually, especially when you can't sleep it off in bed!

No More Demon Drink!

As of Monday 12th November, Jimmy's mother Joce will hereby no longer drink...

[Note: It's always easier talking about stuff like this in the third person...]

Baby Kisses - Protocol Please

What exactly are you supposed to do when you receive a baby kiss?!

I feel quite mean if I wipe the drool from my cheek or as I have been doing of late, my nose, where Jimmy seems to think he's supposed to kiss...

I do love his kisses and I think they're really sweet - BUT, that doesn't mean that I should have to walk around with his saliva dripping off me.

But Jimmy has an unwieldy knack of planting his kisses when we're in public places or I'm out having a coffee. So to avoid the chagrin of little old ladies, I put up with a face wet from spit...

Childhood Illness - Postpone all Coffees...

There's a friend of mine who I met through mother's group earlier this year. She's a lovely person so I thought I'd invite her and her family over for coffee or a drink. An invitation was issued months ago and there have been subsequent ones since. Despite all this, we still haven't managed to meet...

You could be forgiven for concluding that we live at opposite ends of town or in different cities. The reality is that we live less than two minutes drive from each other. So what the hell is happening???

The plain truth is that every time something is scheduled, one of the babies gets sick. And if the infants manage to make it, the disease has passed to the parents who are half dead from it.

Jimmy, Gray and I are now on to our third bout of sickness in as many months. So, once again social plans are shelved and my family is in quarantine. We've rescheduled for Friday week...

Still Getting Used to Saying 'My Son'

I have a curious mix of feelings when I use the term 'my son'. I feel extremely important and responsible - that I'm the ultimate care giver in the world and have the most crucial job in the universe- bringing up little Jimmy! On reflection, this is the most important role to me and one which I wouldn't swap for anything :)

The other feelings that I have - and unfortunately can't get rid of - are that of disbelief and cockiness...

Even though I'm thirty-one, I think the parent concept is all too adult for me! I mean, come on -I still feel incredibly juvenile when we go to visit our local doctor or any other authority figure. The fact that I have power and decision making responsibility over my little man is quite scary! It's a bit of a wake up call and something to take very seriously.

The feeling of cockiness arises when I think - hey, I'm a parent, how cool is this!!!! In my subconscious I must harbour the belief that everyone should bow down to me!?! What the... Maybe I'm reverting back to childhood and the notion of the ALL POWERFUL Mummy and Daddy - who knows, but I still find saying 'my son' quite weird...

Six Month Old Half The Size of Me!

Graeme has a friend who is thinking about relocating to Australia. I met him for the first time last week and he's HUGE!!! Now Graeme's not exactly a small person - he's 6 foot 5 inches tall and is built like a rugby player or the proverbial brick $#!% house - a polite way of putting it...

For this reason, I was amazed when Graeme was dwarfed by his mate. I was then completely gob smacked when I realised how MASSIVE my baby looked in the arms of this gigantic being...

Now my boy has always been big. While he was an average size at birth, he grew like a weed and is off the chart in percentile terms for height and weight for babies of his age...

Accordingly, when I hold him, his legs hang down near my knees and he's about half the size of me! I stopped growing when I was about 11 years old and I'm about 5 foot 3 inches - not a huge build either.

When Jimmy reached 3 months of age, I couldn't carry him for long periods. At 4 months, complete strangers would accost me for carrying him - did I have a death wish for my body?! At 5 months, I was forced to admit defeat and purchase a baby stroller to move him. And now at 6 months of age, I've started an intensive weights programme at the local gym to develop my upper body strength to hold him...

Sex - In Our Dreams

Sex is a delicate topic at the best of times, but particularly so when you've had a baby...

Before Jimmy was born, I dismissed claims that my sex life would come to a screeching halt post baby as utter nonsense. Statements such as these could only have been made by people who didn't have much of a libido to start with!? How wrong can you be...

I can count on one hand the number of times we've been intimate since Jimmy arrived on the scene. And you know what, it doesn't particularly bother me - sleep is a thousand times more desirable!!

At the back of my mind, I do realise that it's an area that I will eventually have to make an effort with. But for the moment, hit me with some Z's!!!

[Note: Apologies to my parents, Gray's parents or any family who come across this post!!! But you were warned by the subject heading!!!]

Baby Comb Overs

Our little baby was born with a shock of thick black hair. I wasn't particularly surprised by this as an abundance of hair runs in my family. The same can't be said about his father unfortunately...

What has surprised me are the number of comments we get about it. I didn't realise that baby hair was so scarce!? I also didn't know about baby bald spots and that our own little cherub would fall victim to it...

Jimmy has developed two rather fetching 'hair challenged' areas on the back and right side of his head. The hair has worn away from the weird rubbing of his scalp against the mattress before he falls asleep.

So now when the wind blows the wrong way, Jimmy's 'comb-over' shifts and his bald spot is revealed... I think he looks quite cute (in a Winston Churchill type way!?), but Graeme doesn't agree....

Blinkie Eyed Baby

Today our poor little man was diagnosed with conjunctivitis. It wasn't that hard to work out what was ailing him - the swollen, crust infected, bloodshot eyes were a bit of a give away...

Part of the treatment is the administration of antibiotic eye drops three times a day. Despite an expert demonstration by our family doctor, I am really crap at doing this...

I'm proficient at taking the lid off the bottle, positioning the suffering babe in my arms and taking aim with the drops - but that's about it...

What happens next is a screaming, squirmy baby who gets ointment all over his face and body. It also ends up on me, the floor and whatever we're sitting on. Our dog Kemba thinks its great and has taken a liking to the flavour of the medicine. That's fine with me as I don't have to clean it up although I am suspicious that she's getting high on it...

Biting the Boob That Feeds You!

Earlier this evening I was feeding my son and he bit me! Or to be precise, he gave me a nip on my nipple - little bastard, and I'm not talking about his legitimacy!

I should have known it was coming. All of my friends with babies of a similar age have been complaining for weeks. One minute, the infants are all adorable and sweet, the next they are absolute monsters!

I have read somewhere that when this happens, you are supposed to stop, pull them off you and tell them 'No!' in a stern voice. If they persist, you then put them on the floor, facing away from you for punishment...Come on, as if you're going to be calm and collected enough to do this!!! As far as I'm concerned, it's all about boob preservation. If he bites, I scream. If I bleed, that's the end of breast feeding!!!

I'm Going to Burst!

Breast engorgement is a wondrous thing... You can exclaim over the increased size, texture and sheer bloody pain of it!!!!!!!

When it first happens after your milk comes in, you look at these alien like orbes and burst into hysterical tears. When you've calmed down a little, you set about trying to fix it.

In our case, we knew that we'd entered a new stage of coupledom, when Graeme and I were both manually handling my breasts (in a none too gentle manner!) to try and squeeze out all the lumpy bits...

Talk about romantic - it was PURE HELL although quite fascinating with both the volume of milk and the body's ability to produce it.

[Note: I still haven't quite recovered from the experience...]

Boys and Their Bits

The male component of the human species are extremely aware of their reproductive organs from a VERY EARLY AGE indeed!

It's very sweet watching Jimmy discover his body, but does he really have to put his hand on his bits every time I change his nappy? According to my friends, it's the same with their boy babies...

The first few times this happened, I didn't think much of it - just infant exploration. But after a month or two, I have to conclude that he knows it's there and that it must be a comfort thing!?!?!

I don't have an issue with this, but I do wince at the ferocity by which he seems to grab it - I can't imagine his father doing this... well, then again....

I Don't Cut the Cake...

There are people in this life who cut cake and hand it out at birthday party's and social functions. I am not one of them. There are people who genuinely like it when their colleagues on maternity leave bring their children in to work for a visit. I am not one of them. There are people who have babies and get actively involved in mothers groups and play groups - today I became such a person.

If you had told me five years ago that I would become a stay at home mum who on Monday and Tuesday mornings, planned my child's sleep routine around get togethers with local mums and little kids, I would have laughed in your face... Afterall, these activities are for other people - like - um, my own mother, for instance...

But this morning, I loaded little Jimmy into the car and went to a play group at my local community centre. Once there, it was a bit surreal and while I enjoyed myself, I kept having flashbacks to my own childhood. There's just something about tiny chairs and tables, smeared play dough and the smell of over ripe fruit in the heat that takes you back to when you were very small... The main difference in the experience is that now I have a baby and I'm no longer scared of the toilet bowl and falling in...

Damn - He Knows Where The Door Is

It was all too easy when Jimmy's awareness was restricted to my boobs, his bottom, bowel movements and our ugly blue curtains. But with baby development, Jimmy's world has expanded and he now has a memory...

His toothy grins and baby chuckles at being reunited with 'Tommy the Turtle', 'Jimmy in the Mirror', 'Kemba Puppy Girl', and his favourite tree are quite endearing. But it is a real pain in the arse when he's refusing to go to sleep and screaming. When he's worked his way into an absolute rage, someone has to go and comfort him. Usually it's me, or if Graeme is home, it's whoever loses rock, paper, scissors...

At six months of age, Jimmy now looks to see the door opening as his poor parents try to soothe him. We may get him to settle , but this all comes undone once we leave and he sees the door closing...

So we've now mastered the art of commando crawling to enter his room, get to his cot and re-adjust blankets or pop in his dummy, all out of his line of vision. We 'high five' each other after each successful mission...

Baby Songs About Babies?!

Baby songs are not particularly original, nor are they very interesting...

This morning I was singing the usual repertoire to my little guy and the song titles (which reflect 80 per cent of the actual content!) went something like this:

1. Sometimes There's A Baby
2. Where's The Baby?
3. Baby, Baby, I Love You
4. Put the Pants on the Baby
5. There's A Poo In My Nappy Dear Mummy, Dear Mummy (just for variety...)

So, as you can see, the lyrics are not particularly inspiring - although I have to say that the vocals and mummy 'Sound Machine' that accompanies the lyrics i.e. trumpets, guitar, drums etc..., is absolutely amazing!!!!!

Squeal Like A Pig

Baby development is a fine thing until your little one reaches the 'age of squealing'. The first time they do it, it's rather cute, but as it continues you worry about the police...

From what I can fathom, there's three types of squealing - the continuous, the sharp bursts and those that are interspersed with grunting and crying...

According to the baby gurus, they don't actually mean anything. Our little cherubs let loose because they can - what the ...!?

The interesting thing is, that squealing comes and goes in stages. It's there for a week and then gone for a month - it then magically reappears when your in-laws who have never seen your baby decide to visit...

I rather look forward to recounting my son's squeals when we're introduced to his first serious girlfriend or invites his rugby / football mates over for a visit...

Not the Queen's English

My mother has always scoffed at people using cutesy-wootsie, itsie bitsie, bubbie language to infants and young kids. Well, wouldn't she be ashamed of me....

I don't know how it happened, but young Jimmy thinks that 'boogadie' is a term of excitement, 'chickie and whaka chickie' - a general greeting and 'phrrrrrrr' - a euphemism for isn't this brilliant!

I'm not proud of these developments, but I'm not overly concerned either. If Jimmy is still saying these 'words' when he's six, I can always say that he speaks Swahili and that he's actually a childhood genius...

The Little Bastard (Literally!)

I've been wondering for a while now whether my son is and forever will be a bastard?! You may well answer that it really depends on your mood but I ask in the context of a child born out of wedlock???

Jimmy's father Graeme has acknowledged our boy as being his own. He did so from the birth by formally registering paternity on official documentation (despite my warnings!).

So by having his father's surname, does this mean he's not a bastard? And if he is a bastard, is that label removed after our marriage?

Moreover, is it inappropriate to affectionately refer to Jimmy as 'our little bastard' in front of family and friends? Should I be more mindful of old-fashioned sensibilities?!? Or do I just save the term for when I'm in a really foul mood?