Man Flu

A few weeks ago, I did well to hold my composure when a mum came into the local toddler group claiming all men had it easy (toddlers groups are the root of this myth me thinks!), and that "there is nothing in the world harder than looking after a kid when you are ill." Bollocks! Yes there is......looking after sick kids when you yourself are sick.

This week all of us have been ill, and it seems like a man flu virus has got us. The wife is ill, though mysteriously enough, not as bad as the rest of us, which only serves to support the bloody man flu story I suppose. Although my eldest is 5 and a half years old, I was never really subjected to this side of parenting in my capacity as a weekend dad. The eyes are wide open now let me tell you!

So much for all the joy and happiness parenting allegedly brings. The last week has seen my (relatively short!) fuse stretched to breaking point. Whilst BB and I have shared a few very early, albeit very pleasant, mornings on the sofa, he really does know how to turn it on when his mother is around. He will go back to bed for me, but not for her. He will generally allow me the time and space to cook, clean or even iron (yes ladies ME, but you've all missed out now), yet barely gives her time to wipe her own backside. Perhaps that is why I have evolved to be the Domestic God that I am?

On the bright side, everyone seems to be on the mend and over the worst. I managed to accompany BB to his Playgroup Christmas party today, where Santa made the obligatory appearance which perked my boy up immensely. I didn't get to take SS to Playgroup or nursery events either, so it makes one appreciate the day to day side of being dad too. Even if I do want to kick his little backside occasionally.

Fine Dining - For One

This leave is the third since LL came along, and what a difference I've noticed in the boys in that three months. BB has progressed from single words to trying to string sentences together.....which ironically makes it harder for me to understand him that it did a month ago, and the wee man is full of beaming great smiles. The genuine sort, not wind! It's brilliant, but it's happening soooooo fast.

I think I have been put in my place for the remarks I made about Rachel Stevens. This is my third night home, and I've already spent one with the other mums from the playgroup wrapping gifts for the kids Xmas party, and tonight MPLST is off out for a meal with the mums, leaving me with the boys. I wonder.....how is it I can wrap presents with them, but not eat with them?? I took the liberty of asking one of the other ladies to do pudding watch....ie make sure MPLST doesn't have one - she's still not back in those size 10's. Gone are the days when she made an effort I tell ya. That's 3 months now.....

The Poor Oilman's Guide To Christmas

I'm home for 4 weeks from tomorrow morning (weather permitting of course), which means I can get into the Christmas spirit without the distraction of work. I am particularly looking forward to this years festive season, having worked Xmas and NY last year. The only downside will be everyone asking when I am going back to work as usual, which is this side of New Year. My friends have such a unique way of making me feel wanted.....

The new job comes with more responsibilities (but rather predictably not much more extra cash!). That has rather curtailed my blethering and web browsing over the last couple of weeks. In fact, I've spoken to my other half probably less in the last 2 weeks than at any other point since we got together, so the next 4 weeks being stuck indoors should be good for us!

There will be a distinct lack of nights out this year, as both our chosen babysitters have social life's as well. Bugger. Now that I think about it, my next four Saturday nights will consist of Strictly and X Factor! As I've been stuck on nightshift, I have no idea who's in and who's not, so I live in the eternal hope that the Great British public have been voting for Rachel Stevens and Alexandra in their droves. Ahhh, how Saturday nights have changed in the last 5 years.....anyway, nuff said as I'm sure the wife still reads this occasionally.

Being a Fifer, and having and Aberdonian better half, we are better equipped than most to deal with the harsh realities of the Credit Crunch at Christmas. I think we are headed for a repeat of 1981 where my stocking quite possibly consisted of an apple, satsuma, a jigsaw and 50p and not much else. Perhaps there were Top Trumps cards too? And a Slinky! My boys will be the envy of the village.....

It is still a pleasure to have kids young enough that one doesn't have to remortgage just for Christmas, as seems to be the way these days. I, for one am taking advantage, because I'm sure I'll pay the price in years to come.

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

Three years married today! And two kids to show for it.....so by my reckoning, if we make it another three years, then we'll have four kids. I always was good at sums.Perhaps it won't work out quite like that, but who knows? I'm starting to feel my age these days, so perhaps we'll have to buy a telly instead. If we don't stop with this pro creation malarkey, I'll be working til I'm 70.

On a separate subject, I thought I'd share the quote of last weekend with you....

SS: (whilst hovering over her baby brother in a very mumsy kind of way) He's looking at me, Daddy. He's smiling at me. Daddy he's smiling at me.

Me: That's good. Why do you think he is smiling at you?

SS: Because I'm beautiful.

Who am I to argue with that?

So Much To Blog About....

...yet so little time to blog it. There is a tornado gathering pace between my ears which is scooping up everything on the periphery. And so it goes on.....


Over the last few weeks, I could have blogged both seriously and jovially about a variety of things, one thing being that there is a baby called Tiger Lily at our local toddler group. A real live baby with that name, honest! So far as I know, the parents in question are neither famous or particularly talented, so I can only deduce they must be either a) separated? This is clearly an attempt to wind dad up or b) sick. So very very sick. She's not the only one though, but I'll save that for another day.

MPLST and I have also been discussing the merits of private education versus that provided by the state. We actually got carried away and lost some much needed sleep discussing this, but got no further forward. Why exactly, I am not sure. Our eldest is just turned 2! Why do we beat ourselves up like this?

I'm also in the process of changing jobs. I actually had to rearrange an interview around the time LL was born, and yet still got the job. The downside of this is that I will have to earn my living as opposed to surfing the net endlessly. Of course, some may see it as an upside that I won't blog as much from work.

On top of all of that, there's the usual Christmas rush. What to get SS and how to keep her mother happy? (Well not happy, just off my back would be good). Where to have Xmas dinner, who's coming.....At least I'm home this year.

The Inevitable

Like death and taxes, it had to come sooner or later. Call it what you will, Terrible Two's, Sibling Rivalry or one of the select few (unprintable) phrases I use, it's here. I knew it was too good to last. I got sucked in, just the same as all those other parents who think their kid is better than everyone elses around them. Fat chance!

BB has finally decided to show some signs of jealousy towards his brother. Granted, it could be worse, at least he's not poking his younger siblings eyes out or trying to help him down the stairs yet. It seems that in missing his dad, he decided to continuously clamp himself to his mother. I can see why that makes feeding and changing a small baby difficult.

He looked genuinely pleased to have dad home too, but not so he can get his daddy time. Oh no, dad has to get his LL time, so BB can have mummy all to himself. Not for the first time, the goalposts have shifted, only the parents have been last to react.....again. Will we ever learn?

A Mum's Life - Not As Busy As One Thinks!

BB had his first overnight in hospital as last weeks mystery illness got suddenly worse. I couldn't make it home, but fortunately the worst was over after only one night.

But nuff of that...

I always thought it was only in the mythological world of single dads that mum had it easy. I now have evidence to the contrary....

The picture above is BB's Halloween pumpkin, carved by the fair hand of MPLST. Any mum who can find the time to do that clearly has way to much time on her hands. Nevertheless, I am impressed with the pumpkin, and I'm just sad that I am not there to enjoy the feast. Waste of good pumpkin that is!

Sea Views

But not quite the ones I want right now.....

As is always the way, the last two weeks passed me by far quicker than the preceding two weeks of work, and I find myself counting down the sleeps once again. On one hand I'm back where I get some quality shut eye, but on the other I miss the family.

It's been a tough week for BB, with starting playgroup and having us leave him for longer than ever before with relative strangers. Then on top of that, dad has gone and left him, so we thought that would explain his bad mood yesterday. He was basically needy, demanding and stroppy....all the things a two year old boy should be I suppose, except it is actually unusual for him.

I was relieved to hear that last night, after a whole day of playing up, he finally vomited all over himself and his mother. I'm not missing home quite as much now!

Seriously, at least there is something to explain the change in mood though, and hopefully it's not serious and he'll be back on form in no time. And it proves he listens to me. That was another thing we agreed he'd save for mum.

Firsts

Little Lad got his first bottle from dad last night. Not much of a bottle mind you, as mum has only just started expressing (the wonder of the breast pump, yet another thing that can lead you to question your wife's sex appeal!) Anyway, I digress...LL took the feed well, so I can only assume that means lots of boys nights in to come next leave as mum does her thinking with the other mums who apparently never get out.

Today, BB had his first day at playgroup. I think it went well and he did it all on his lonesome without mum or dad. In fact, I think mum was more traumatised over it than he was judging by the look I saw on her face as we drove off this morning. I think the Danish pastry and peaceful morning brew we enjoyed upon my return went a long way to convincing her that it was for the best though. Judging by the picture he brought home, I think he rather enjoyed it too.

We also got to talking about firsts later in the day. MPLST noted that she has given her grandma two firsts in the last couple of years. Last Christmas was grandma's first ever Christmas stocking, in her 82nd year, and a month or two back, we invited her to her first ever barbecue. I'm told firsts are exciting, no matter how old you are when you have them. Perhaps it even helps to be old enough to appreciate them.

A Match Made in Heaven

Here's how it works:
Take one post natal woman, tired if possible.
Add one post nightshift man, these only ever come tired.
Deprive both of even more sleep.

You can imagine where this will lead, can't you? That's a whole week I've been home, and I'm still waking up bright as a button with the 4am feed, yet the last time I looked, my man breasts still proved useless to LL, so there is little point in being awake at this stupid hour. Then come 6pm, I can't keep my eyes open, just as BB and I should be having our rough and tumble time. I think this renders me next to useless as both father and husband. It seems my domestic popularity is similar to Gordon Brown's.

I fancy my chances of recovery better though.

Free Range Kids

I can't remember where I got this site from, but in the age of the helicopter parent, it's refreshing. Obviously, I like it because I am a cold hearted, callous bar steward who just wants them to learn the hard way. Well, that's how some people see it, I'm sure. I keep meaning to read it more often, so I'll leave a link on the page.

http://freerangekids.wordpress.com/

Lenore Skenazy, the woman who infamously allowed her 9 year old son to find his way home from downtown Manhattan. I remember reading it earlier this year. I recalled how, aside from the first 6 weeks of primary 1, no adult walked me to school. After that, I knew the way. It drives me nuts how people judge you when you try and encourage a bit of trust in your own kids, because they feel the need to smother theirs. But like all good things, take the good bits, and work out the crap for yourselves.....

Here's a cracking post though, just to give you a flavour of how controversial it can be:

What is WRONG with you people??? Giving our kids SOME independence is great. Giving them ALL of the independence they can take at age 9 is just plain dangerous (and irresponsible). My husband is a police officer and our children are only left with the trust of the teachers in their school or an occasional babysitting day with their grandparents. Otherwise, my husband and my JOB as parents are to RAISE them until they are ADULTS. Nine or Ten do not classify as adults. Or even teenagers for that matter. What on earth makes you think that a molester just won't go ahead and take your sons away Lenore. You feel you can trust strangers, but you CAN'T. Molesters will do ANYTHING do get what they want. Including holding a gun or knife to your child's body and MAKING them follow them to a car or designated area so they can hurt your child/children. Whoever leaves their child to walk amongst their city to take subways and cabs at age 9 does not deserve to be a parent. If you are blessed with children, you need to keep your eyes on them forever. It is your eternal job. Keeping watch over them while they are babies requires constant attention; watching them play as young children requires you to give them SOME distance. While they are teens and grow into adults, you give them space. But NEVER, EVER put your child into a situation where they are completely on their own to wander the city at such a young age. LENORE, you are just ASKING kidnappers to take your child away. Don't you LOVE them ENOUGH to be with them and sacrifice YOUR TIME for them. I grew up in the same time you did. My parents NEVER allowed me to do the things your children do. Because they loved me, cared for me and my sister and we both knew our parents were always there, whether or not we needed them. They just were there, in case. What a warm, loving set of parents I realize I had. They never abandoned me or my sister like you have your sons. I repay my parents now by honoring them and checking on them and taking care of them, like they did us. As you age, you and your husband will grow quite lonely when your sons don't give a crap about you, either.

I wonder if she is not the perfect woman? ie, her knickers are a size too small? Uptight or what?

Some people can take it too far of course, but every day is a school day.

British Second Wives Club

I just can't believe there is a club with that name. I'm curious if there is a third wives, or even fourth wives club now. If not, why not? I had a look at their site, expecting perhaps something similar to the Gold Wing Owners Club. Would it have handy hints and tips on restoring your worn and used husband to his former glory? Or perhaps some handy tips to ensure that, with a little regular maintenance, he'll continue to provide lots of riding pleasure in the years ahead? Would they all meet in country parks at various weekends throughout the summer, displaying their prized husbands in the hope of appearing in the local rag?

Much to my displeasure, no.

I'm a little disappointed though, having had a look that there are no such clubs for wife 3 or 4 (not that I'm planning that far ahead!) either. How do these poor women get by?

www.thebritishsecondwivesclub.co.uk

Only in America

My PLST and I have discussed the use of TV/DVD's and the like with regard to our kids at some length. We generally agree that the use of these things should be minimised, and have in fact questioned ourselves continually as to whether or not we are too harsh on BB by limiting cartoon time amongst other things. We're not total control freaks, he does watch In The Night Garden occasionally.

This article from The New York Times http://www.nytimes.com/2005/12/15/national/15toys.html?_r=1&oref=slogin makes me feel like a parenting guru. I mean, toys aimed at kids 7+ bought for a baby under one. Morons!

It's true though. Everywhere we go, new parents are telling us how smart, clever or intelligent their offspring are. Whilst I'd admit that a certain amount of academic success is probably more than useful, surely there's more to life? After all, I know my share of really clever people who are complete and utter knob jockeys.

I wonder if their parents gave them computers from an early age? My mum couldn't afford one for us when all our friends started getting them. Perhaps that was a blessing in disguise?

If only it was Only in America.

The Ideal Woman

Remember I mentioned that I read more crap from the Life and Style section of timesonline rather than doing other, more meaningful things these days? Well, true to form I've stumbled over an article that tickled me.

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/men/article4790198.ece

Giles Coren cracked me up, even though I don't want a woman who makes the admission he seeks, probably because I have neither no doubt!

Fortunately, I happen to believe such a creature does exist. MPLST is the all round perfect woman. Perfect for me at least. She might be surprised to find I think this, because I generally find something to pick at in everything she does, and I'm usually not shy in telling her. That's more down to me being a narky twat than her failings as the perfect partner though.

The perfect woman will be good company when you go shopping for a dress. She may try on 50, she may even go back and buy the first one. But what she must always be prepared to do is accept your word that the said dress may look terrible once on her person, may even make her arse look big, or heaven forbid, actually looks fantastic.
And another thing, she needs to understand that 10, 12, 14, 16, are just numbers (less than that, is not a woman. Eat carbs girls. Lots of carbs. And cheese.)There is no point whatsoever in a lady squishing her carcass into clothes of the size she thinks she should be. Especially lingerie, the next size up is always more flattering. Women who know this are rare. Women who are prepared to live by it, even rarer. Of course, it's all immaterial for me right now, because there is nothing in the world that can turn you off to your partner quite like a nursing bra can. I live in hope, she can't breastfeed forever.....

A woman who can do "mans" stuff is brilliant. I once watched on as MPLST got out the jigsaw and laid a laminate floor, whilst insisting I watched football. Seriously, the only thing she could have done to make it better was bring beer. Well, maybe that's not the only thing, but you get the gist. This was early in our relationship though, so I didn't push my luck and ask. I bet she'd bring beer now though. Without being asked too. On top of that, she can put oil in the car, wallpaper, inflate tyres and use a lawnmower. In fact, if I'm honest, she can do a lot of man stuff better than I can. Maybe that's why I'm left with the cooking and ironing? Oh well, it works for us.

Last but not least, MPLST is looking after my boys on her tod. I doubt it's easy, but she's not the type to complain.

Perfect indeed.

Sleep at Last

Uninterrupted sleep. Sheer bliss! Almost better than making the baby in the first place.....
Only once before have I ever been remotely pleased to get to work, funnily enough that was when BB was born, but in truth I've got a little bit of a cheek. That time I managed to work it so I had 14 weeks off, and 6 of them were spent at home with BB and MPLST post birth. This time, I only (yes, only) managed to wangle 8 off, and since LL was 2 weeks late, I've only experienced sleep deprivation for a little more than 3 weeks this time around.
Even that claim is a little bit lame. In some respects, my latest venture into fatherhood is not quite what I expected. MPLST has seen to each and every night time bum change when she has been feeding, leaving me to see to BB whilst her and the LL catch up on some much needed zeds in them mornings. Not sure I'm getting the best end of that particular deal, as I get the proper stinky nappies, whilst she bathes in the glory of changing the sweet smelling chicken korma ones. It seems that in the early days of multiple baby homes, dad has to concentrate on being a good husband (ie a housewife) as opposed to doing dad things.

16 Stone of Jelly

What is it about those bloody creatures that makes me buckle whenever I see one? More to the point, how am I to avoid making my kids fearful of tiny little (aye, right!) creatures that are more afraid of us than we are of them? - I use "us" loosely here by the way.

The other night, not one, but two of these rampaging beasts found there way to within 4 feet of my person. Just when I was beginning to conquer my fear of the damn things by getting rid of smaller ones with kitchen roll (a big step forward for BFS), my living room turns into a scene from Archnaphobia and I have developed a condition known locally as the Heebie Jeebies. In my defense, these weren't small, they were bloody well massive. 8 feet tall I tell you. At least!

Let's face it, in all other respects I consider myself a man's man. The kind who enjoys contact sports. I can be confrontational with creatures which have less than 6 legs (though I'm smart enough not to take on a bear, for instance). I don't even wear Marigolds when I'm cleaning the loo - now THAT'S tough.......but spiders, well, creepy crawlies in general........uggggggggggh!

So now we live with the Teuchtars in the countryside, I need to raise 2 lads not to be big jessies like their old man, otherwise I can only imagine the torment they will receive during their school years. I'm told boys round here eat big spiders for breakfast before they ride their tractors to school. I'll need to find a way though, because I understand that teaching them to thump other kids who extract the urine is no longer an acceptable parenting method.

2 Under Two - Not Any More!

Today is BB's 2nd birthday, so technically, we are no longer the parents of 2 children under two years old. Naturally, I expect all our problems to be solved overnight with this revelation, because it's having both kids under this magic number that makes everything so damn tiring. Isn't it?

The picture above is his birthday cake, which I had nothing what so ever to do with making by the way. I did keep Little Lad amused long enough for mum to work her magic though. She's setting a high standard, I wonder what next year will bring? Since moving from the bright lights of the city to our new, more rural abode, BB has developed a little fetish for tractors. Our friends and family seem to have picked up on this, which might explain why my living room looks like the Massey Ferguson production line at the minute. However, I did have a lot more to do with the destruction of the tractor pictured, which I can confirm, tastes as good as it looks.

The weekend with three turned out to be just as easy/difficult (depending on which side of bed one falls out of) as having the two. SS and BB had a ball together, which if anything freed up more time to do other things that new parents need to do, but inevitably can't get done. So one weekend down, three happy kids AND a tidier house.... I'm getting the hang of this dad malarkey I think.

2 Babies - Twice the Work?

Having two is simply not as straight forward as having twice the hassles of having one. Whilst I'm sure we will benefit in the years ahead to some degree by having our kids so close together, right now we're left questioning our own judgment. Why? Because we are totally wrecked!
LL is not even 2 weeks old, both the wife and I have golf size bags under our eyes. Our house resembles Ground Zero and all of that with a baby who is utterly spoiling us in terms to him being fairly easy going. I should have known this, because I recall just how knackered I was after SS spent a weekend with us when BB came along. I could and should have learned something from that me thinks....
BB's terrible two's tantrums are increasing in their ferocity which leads me to ask if this is a direct answer to him having a baby brother, yet on the other hand, he seems genuinely excited at the baby, despite said baby stealing his prized possessions. He did seem just a little put out yesterday to realise that his push chair had been converted back to a pram and contained his little brother, leaving no room for him. That aside though, I think the tantrums were coming anyway.

On a positive note this week, BB and I are having much more QT. Mummy continues to do nightshifts pretty much single handedly, whilst BB and I do our breakfast routine. He has had 2 major high points this week, well one for him and one for me really! He was really impressed with the ride on lawnmower I've now got to mow the lawn, which he hitched a ride on for the duration with the biggest possible smile a little boy could muster. I was really chuffed to have him do his first wee wee in the grown up loo, despite Domestic Management thinking it's too early for that stuff. I'm not getting carried away, but it's a start.

Of course, having two, results in twice the pleasure, but human nature makes it easy to see past that bit right now! Besides that, the babies are synchronised in that they are NEVER EVER happy, contented and settled at the same time.
SS is coming this weekend. Much as though I'm looking forward to that, roll on Monday!

Let The Blethering Continue

Finally, they are home. Ironically, the natural birth option resulted in an even longer stay in hospital for MPLST and the Little Lad, then the previous C Section. The silver lining to that cloud is that the recovery won't be anywhere near as long as last time.
Dad's life has been pretty straight forward, if just a little tiring during their extended stay in hospital. LL looks like a pin cushion. He's had more needles in him than Amy Winehouse. Last time, I was ill prepared for a C Section, this time I wasn't really expecting (does anyone?) the infection, incubator, drip and lumbar puncture. Just as he sorted himself out, MPLST slipped in the shower and needed her stitches redone. Ouch! I can't compete with those two....

In the week that I wasn't blogging, I missed some great blog material too. There was the Meg Ryan soundalike in labour next to us. I swear they were working on their next one already. SS's reaction to her youngest brother was a moment to cherish, as was her departing "I think someone has forgotten to give their daughter a kiss" comment, aimed at no one in particular. Five going on bloody fifteen that one is. I've also been pondering where all the normal people go to have kids, because outside the Maternity Hospital we were in, it seemed to be a collection of junkies, jaikey's and jail birds. Perhaps growing up is bringing out the snob in me?

In retrospect though, we can look back with fond memories. LL just inherited his mother's drama queen gene. She got far more rest in hospital than she would ever have gotten here. The neo natal unit seems to have had a calming effect on LL, who is exceptionally contented most of the time. When we got home, the trials and tribulations of our week were put into context when we found out our neighbours baby has had heart surgery, and is very ill.

So, now we're home, it's back to being dad. My role will revert to chief cook and bottle washer for the remainder of my leave. The worries I had over BB rejecting his younger brother proved unfounded, he has carried on as if nothing has happened. He doesn't seem to mind the new baby hanging off mum's boob all day long either. I know....give it time.

No Smart Arsed Remarks...

....for a change.

After a prolonged and difficult birth, we had a son this morning, weighing in at a healthy 9lb 7oz. Chuffed to bits with that.
On the other hand, he got taken to the neo natal unit for checks, as his temperature is too high, probably as a result of infection setting in after arriving 48 hrs after the waters broke. I've just come from there, and the lump in my throat is still there.

So, it's a he. He's here, and when I know he's healthy, I'll blether more.

Between The Lines

Well, 4 weeks after coming home, I'm pretty sure that Bambino will be coming in the next few days. We could have saved ourselves a hell of a lot of the stress and opted for an elective Cesarean Section a couple of weeks back, but no, we didn't want that. I have a sneaky feeling that if baby ends up coming out the tummy, MPLST will feel it was all for nothing. Personally, I think we were right to let nature take it's course because I'm in the "nothing ventured, nothing gained" camp. No matter which route he/she finds out of there, it doesn't really matter as long as they are both healthy.

As I write, we are less that 25 hours from going to hospital for the dreaded induction. Induction is best avoided due to a complicated birth last time around, but having done all we can to let nature takes it's course we're just about resigned to it now. In a final effort to make her body do things it doesn't want to, MPLST has spent almost every waking moment since Saturday on her feet, hoping for gravity to work some magic. Today, she even started ironing some curtains. What's a man to think when she does this? Is it because she genuinely wants the curtains ironed? Is it because she wants to be active to so labour will start? Or, as the more sinister side of my brain thinks, but is frightened to ask, is it a way of saying "Ok you big lazy twat, I'll iron those curtains and hang them since you've avoided it for a month."

I've never been all that good at reading between the lines. I'm also smart enough to know that now is the time to keep my head down in case I am right! Let's face it though, she's got a bloody cheek (he says, from the comfort of his own blog). The ironing basket is as empty as a New Labour promise. As Gordon Ramsey might say, "Ironing. Done!" Even the bloody fitted sheets (let's see some smart arse on Dragon's Den get investment for a man friendly way to do those bad boys!). Yet, her ladyship finds the one thing I've not done. Kick in the teeth or what I ask you?

I, on the other hand like to say what I mean, and mean what I say. I find this avoids the ambiguity described above. I'm rather proud that she is as resilient as she is, and that she has managed to get us to this point, because let's face it, my part was done 9 months ago. I really hope she gets going naturally, since she's put a hell of a lot of effort into it. I'm off to order a vindaloo.....

Just £2 A Month

It doesn't follow that just because I haven't blogged for a couple of days that Bambino has arrived. On the contrary, the wee bugger looks as comfy as ever in there. In fact, yesterday I was supposed to be at my Best Man's wedding, but had to call off on Thursday. Co-incidentally, yesterday was the most stress and pain free MPLST has had in over a week, leading her to tell me at about 2.30pm "You know, you could have made the wedding." Shame they were Mr and Mrs by that time!

Tomorrow, if Bambino is not out, it's yet another trek to the midwife that we didn't think we'd need. Failing any progress by Wednesday, it's induction in the afternoon. I should be returning from work on Wednesday! Seems I could have taken next trip off instead, but then again, Sod's Law and all that.....

The tension also seems to be affecting BB who has decided to bring forward terrible two's just a wee bit. I think perhaps I have a child star of the future in the making here. Not in the Macaulay Culkin sense, more in a starring role on that NSPCC advert on TV. If he carries on like this, he'll be a natural in no time!

Home Sweet Home

It would seem that the one thing my better half excels at more than anything else (and she does have many talents by the way) is making a comfortable home for a growing baby. This wee one is not for coming out at all. It's beyond funny now. It is officially driving us both up the wall. I'm actually close to referring to the effing baby and effing pregnancy, but have an inkling I'll feel really guilty in a month or two when looking back at my selfish thought processes. So I'll try and keep a civil tongue in my fingertips.

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I'm well and truly knackered. Who knows what MPLST feels like in the tired stakes? Two 84hr weeks on nightshift (ok, I took 2 shifts off at the end, so shoot me) followed by 3 weeks plus of being chief cook and bottlewasher have taken their toll. I'm officially a bad dad now, in that I take full advantage of BB being an easy going child in the morning (not a trait he gets from mummy by the way). He's not the type to call you as soon as he wakes, he'll amuse himself in his cot for ages until one of us goes and gets him up, sometimes quietly (sheer bliss!), sometimes not. This has lead me to get every last second of sleep before waking up and asking in hope rather than expectation "I don't suppose you had a baby last night did you?" across the bed. We're more of a brunch than breakfast family at the moment - almost.

I've found new ways to dissuade people from calling and texting too. Someone texted "Is bump still a bump?" the other night, and got the reply, "No, we had a wee boy yesterday and I forgot to tell you." Rather than the traditional "Hello" when answering the phone, I've taken to "No, she's not had the baby and yes, she is still pregnant" before giving anyone a chance to speak. People seem to be taking the hint, not before bloody time.

I've also realised that my Paternity Leave is now done. Finished! And no bloody (that's not swearing) baby yet. From a purely selfish and practical point of view, we really wanted baby to come slightly early or on time as opposed to being, well....like his/her mother. Now I just want it to come out. Soon. Please...

I've also noticed one or two odd little things about us as we await baby. Personally, I can't wait to meet my new son or daughter, I'd love for MPLST to be free of the pain that seems worse each passing day. Simple things, you know. What does MPLST think about? She didn't want to go into labour yesterday, because "Wednesday's child is full of woe." Then I am informed that the zodiac sign changes in a day or so. Only MPLST! I swear it's one of the things I love about her. Honest!

Breathe In....Breathe Out....Wax On....Wax Off...

The nice doctor performed a sweep today in an effort to move things along a wee bit. I'm not sure what one's role is when observing another women bury herself in one's wife up to the armpit, whilst giving us both a running commentary on the condition of what is in there. She also went on to say that this sweep was the best she had performed in a long while, as in the most thorough. I guess we are supposed to feel grateful for that? It did look as though it nipped a little though, judging by the white knuckles I observed clinging to the bed frame. It definitely looked more like a scene from The Karate Kid than one from say ER, for example. Sweep the leg indeed Johhny.
Bambino's head has finally engaged, so we are making progress in the right direction.

On the other dad front, SS started school today. I was pleased to get a picture from her mother on my phone this afternoon. That's quite an achievement since we don't really share information all that well. I even called to say thank you. Old age and fatherhood does indeed make you grow up, even if it takes a wee while. SS sounded very excited about school, it's a bit crap that dad can't be more involved, but then again, it could more a hell of a lot worse I suppose.

A Watched Pot Never Boils

It's official. Our lives are on hold awaiting this baby to make an appearance. Shame it's not happening though. We've reached a stage now where we don't want to start anything that won't get finished should we have to leave home in a hurry. We're not really going anywhere we don't have to either. All we want to do is sleep longer than we have been of late.

I am under the impression that one of my main jobs at this stage of pregnancy is to fend off the calls and texts asking whether baby is here or not. I don't recall it being so difficult last time round? It seems now that barely a few hours passes without a call or a text message from some well meaning friend or relative enquiring if baby had made an appearance or not. I must be growing up....because a few years ago I'd have said what I find myself thinking - "Don't call us. We'll call you. Go away" (My MIL reads this blog, so I can't use my language of choice!) Seriously though, we're pretty good at keeping people informed. Do they really think that we'll make a baby then keep it secret? Arrrgh!

D-Day

For two weeks, the question "Baby or wind?" has been posed to me many times. Yeah, like I'm supposed to know. My wife won't own up to vulgarities such as farting, and being the classy chick that she is, she rarely makes noise or even smells when she does. As there has been no new baby as of yet, I can only assume that it was wind.

Today though, things have changed from a question, to "Ohhhhh, that hurt!" Rather oddly, I proceeded to spend an hour and a half in the greenhouse sorting out my tomato plants, and MPLST baked some cookies then went for a snooze. Very 1950's, don't you think? Here was me thinking I'm some modern day super dad/husband. It appears I am surplus to back rubbing requirements for the time being, and she has decided rest is the best thing for her.

That was earlier today though. Since then, it's all stopped. My 20/20 hindsight says that not getting our knickers in a knot today was indeed the right thing to do. She got some much needed rest, and my tomatoes are in great shape. Everyone's happy!

I guess that since tomorrow is Saturday, and the football season in Scotland is in full swing, I won't have the chance to watch the full times at quarter to five. Sods law and all that......watch this space!

Dog Tired

Jings, crivens help m'boab! I'm not sure I was this tired even when BB was under 3 months. What the hell is going on here? Just how much more tired can I possibly get (which I know is coming) when Bambino arrives? I'm not fishing for sympathy - I already know that it lies somewhere between shit and syphilis in the dictionary, and although I am keeping up my end of the bargain by making MPLST's life easier, the jobs are just piling up. We had a visit from a good friend on Monday, who commented that my wife looked tired and should rest for what's coming, but him (ie me!) should go sleep because I looked bloody terrible. Perhaps that should be a former good friend?

Today marks the day the rest of my colleagues return to work. The plus side for me personally is that I know I'm on company time, whilst my feet are firmly routed terra firma. The downside is that I'm eating into Paternity Leave without a baby and that seems like a waste in some respects. The knowledge that I should be at work provides a wee mental lift to being totally shattered.

Tomorrow we are off for another visit to the midwife purely for a regular check up, and neither of us anticipate any problems. We'll probably use the excuse to get out of the house because we need a change of scenery whilst waiting on baby.

Old Wife's Tales

This Friday will be D-Day so far as the due date is concerned for Bambino. Well, almost. We (yes, "we" apparently) told a few white lies to make taking Maternity Leave work in with other things that were going on at the time. This won't be a problem unless Bambino decides it's not coming out to play, because at D-Day plus 12, the good old NHS want to carry out an induction to get things going - only we calculated tonight that that would only be 8 days overdue had we not been so creative with the dates. Oops. We'll cross that bridge if and when we come to it though.

My good lady wife is the sort who signs up to every email alert there is going. I'm not quite sure if it's just so that she gets regular mail in her inbox, or that she is genuinely interested in the various offers and information that come her way? One of the things she gets is a week by week report of the fetal development process so that she (we!) can keep up with what's going on in her uterus. Obviously, we'd prefer to get things going naturally to avoid owning up to telling porkie pies to the midwife (amongst other things), so we paid a bit more attention to the old wife's tales than usual.

Being a normal red blooded man, sex would be my first choice - every time. If it doesn't work, I'm more than happy to pull my weight and try again. It's hard work, but someone has got to do it, right?
So, as we were reading this list tonight (the one apparently written by women, for women it seems), I was forced to ask why sex always seems to be at the bottom of the list. It's like, try all of this crap first and if all else fails, let him help! I mean walking. What the hell is that all about? If you have more fun walking than shagging, then you seriously need to question your own sex life. Castor oil...eating pineapple......raspberry leaf tea??? Ahh, nipple stimulation....now we're talking, and that can lead to the sex. Two birds, one stone and all that. You know it makes sense.

I was somewhat disappointed that sex was bottom of our particular list. I thought I'd have a look and see if all the lists were the same (just to prove a childish point) and I stumbled across this little gem on www.babycentre.co.uk. This is the bit they don't send in email updates, just in case dad is reading too I think!

"At this stage in your pregnancy sex is easier said than done. Try spoons, with your partner entering from behind or use the bed as a prop: your bulge isn't an obstacle if you lie on your back at the side or foot of the bed with your knees bent, and your bottom and feet perched at the edge of the mattress. Your partner can either kneel or stand in front of you. Alternatively, giving your partner oral sex may work better. It is thought that prostaglandins are absorbed more efficiently through the gut than through the vagina. (Note: you may prefer to keep this piece of information to yourself.)"

Needless to say, I couldn't give a hoot about proving my point on the way various lists are made now. That one paragraph is all I need to know. So that's it. I'm putting my foot down. The next time I hear "I WANT IT OUT!" I shall be sure to request that she gets her gums around my plums.

The Childbirth Song

Mum's perspective my thinks.....

There's been no movement on the bambino front. In fact, I'm moved to question if we're cut out for 2 kids under 2 years old (even if just for a month or so). SS is here this weekend, and whilst yesterday was good fun and spent outside, today my head hurts from kids shouting all morning. Any parent who endures the whole summer holidays with kids who have not learned to talk (as opposed to shout) has my greatest respect.

Mixing part time dad and full time dad has been amusing. SS brings with her the tongue of a 5 year old, the kind that can fill any silence. I learned that the gift we sent over for her birthday 3 weeks ago is still boxed as "mum is skint" and can't afford batteries. A year or two ago, this would have wound me up, but now I find it quite amusing. It's easier to send over batteries (which perhaps I should have thought about previously - Doh!) than to get angry. I'm willing to bet my left testicle that if that same gift had come from the other side of the family though that it would be well used by now. Ho hum.....

On the bright side, we (those who are not pregnant) all went out cycling yesterday to give MPLST a deserved lie in. Rural living has it's advantages. You can use roads and the few cars you do come across are very understanding of wobbly 5 year olds. We managed to cycle "all the way to the sheep" which puts a new perspective on distance for me too.

Never Mind the Atkin's

Baby stress! That's the answer to all your weight loss problems. Honest, it's tried and tested, and if Dr. Atkins can make money by telling fat people they can get thin, why can't I? When I say thin, I mean thinner of course, since it's all relative (that's why I always stand next to obese people wherever possible!)
It's common knowledge that BFS is partial to all kinds of bad food, especially chocolate, jelly sweets and biscuits. In fact I visited my mother yesterday and what did she have for me? A packet of Flumps (marshmallow types sweets to the uneducated amongst you). I'm 34 years old! It's like visiting your granny when you were 7........but who am I to complain? Whilst I always endeavor to balance my food intake with more healthy foods (these are the ones I believe that really make you fat, cos they obviously add unnecessary calories), I'm not one for dieting. It's what size 10 women do. Or 50 something men. Occasionally teenage girls too, but only the really skinny ones! In fact, I've noticed the only people who don't do it are truly the people who should be bloody doing it.
Without making a conscious effort to lose weight, BFS has dropped a stone in the last month. I've been at the gym less than ever. I've still binged on the sweets occasionally, though admittedly not as badly as usual - but when I binge I must finish whatever it is that I open, so it really is calorie-tastic.
So the answer must lie in the baby stress. My kilt now fits me back in the buckles that I fastened the day I got married. This was a pleasant surprise for the wedding we were at the other day, as the last time the kilt came out, I resembled 10 pounds of shite squashed into a 5 pound bag. My jeans are falling off my backside, so I look about 24 from the back too. Add to that, I am normally stood next to MPLST who is growing by the day, I can't help but look slimmer than ever.
So Fat Boy's everywhere. Get on the job, get a bun in the oven. Right about month 8, put yourself somewhere where you've got no option but to worry your wee hearts out, and the pounds will just fall off. It's an eat all you like, no exercise, fail safe plan. Mrs BFS might be in the club again before she knows it.....

Guinness and Red Wine - One of Each!

That's it! That's all I've got to show for 2 child free nights out in the last 3 days cos this bloody baby won't make an appearance. As I'm on driver duty, I must remain technically sober for the next.....I dread to think how long. Sat night was one of our friends 30th birthday parties, and a good party it was too. We chose not to dress up as per the 80's theme of the other guests - just in case labour came on then. I imagine the midwife's at the local maternity unit would have had a good laugh at us had we arrived in some bad 80's outfits? Yesterday was spent at a wedding, which was a very good day out, but my "treat" was a glass of red wine with dinner. We were rather hoping that baby might make an appearance just after dessert for a number of reasons, one being that BB was already at my mothers. Obviously, we'd both be fed and watered too making a stint in hospital that bit more bearable. The wedding venue was 10 mins from the hospital too, which using my German prototype efficiency model, would be the best option. But alas, I think our baby knows it is not German. I'm not sure the kilt would have proved all that practical in the maternity ward either though?

Our midwife also called to have us visit the hospital for a needless appointment. Nevertheless, it provided the opportunity for yet another doc to prod at my wife's bump. As usual, everything is ok and all the discussion surrounds things that can possibly go wrong. Cheery places are ante natal clinics! MPLST still has 10 days or so until due date, and there seems to be a panic about how to induce her should she go over (this because of the previous C Section, and induction following one of those bad boys opens an even bigger can of worms). They could at least give us until D Day has come and gone. Oddly enough, the nurse who measured her blood pressure today was ex forces, and praised the Germans for their relaxed attitude to all of this. 3 weeks over due date is common over there. 3 weeks late sounds about right by MPLST's standards, maybe we should move to Germany?

Things You Shouldn't...

...teach a toddler to do. Especially when you have a very pregnant, tired and irritable wife in close proximity.
Harking back to my days of youth, I was singing one of the old football songs. When I say old, I was singing this in stadiums before the were all seated. The good old days, standing room only and less than a tenner for a World Cup Qualifier. My kids will never experience that come to think of it. What a shame.
Anyways, forget the trip down Memory Lane. Here's how it goes:
He's fat, he's round
He's worth a million pound
(I think this may have been in reference to Gazza once upon a time, but I think these days Wayne Rooney might hear it occasionally)
Now, even though you can't get much for a million pounds in terms of players at todays market price, you can at least teach your toddler to shout DAD-DEEEEEEE when you finish the lines.

That bit is fine. You won't get in trouble for it (Disclaimer: I think!) You could even score brownie points by teaching them to shout MUM-MEEEEEE at the end, of course changing the He to She, but you surely must have worked that out yourself.
I played on words a little too much though.
She's fat, she's round
She bounces on the ground
"MUM-MEEEEEE" comes the deafening roar from the back seat of the car.

Please. For your own safety and well being. DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME!

So Far, So Good

Another appointment with the midwife today. It's 37 weeks and 6 days. It seems that I've gone full circle, or rather we have. I think perhaps we are the only people not stressing over the arrival of this baby. Today we had a different midwife, which is a shame because we get on rather well with the usual one. She seemed determined to make us feel uneasy about our lack of organisation, either that or she was determined to score one up on her absent colleague who is obviously useless as a midwife in her eyes. Either we are living too far away from the hospital, or we should have discussed lots of things we haven't with our regular midwife, or had more face to face meetings with the obstetrician, and we need to have plans in place for when (rather than if) the baby comes late. If the baby comes late love, it's cos he/she is waiting on a familiar, not to mention friendly bloody midwife.
However, the long and the short of it is that everything is moving along just nicely. There is no need for panic. Baby appears healthy and mother is doing pretty well too considering what's in there. So, we won't panic. We'll do what we did last time round and adopt the mentality that this baby will come when it's good and ready.

I've Got The Power!

Like all great smug bar stewards, I shall milk my glory, despite knowing it will be short lived. Finally, Mrs BFS had admitted that she's been overdoing things for the past 4 months. No shit Sherlock! It's not that I get some sort of perverse pleasure from seeing her suffer you understand, and believe me, when she asked for me to come home early, she must have really been suffering. It's just that I get to say I was right. I told you so. Me, the thick one, without my University Education and all that. I. TOLD. YOU. SO. Now I get to puff my cheek out and receive the "I told you so" kiss (it's just something we do). The balance of power has shifted.

Coming home early to support to MPLST has shifted my mood somewhat. As I thought, now that I am back where it matters, I am considerably less stressed (despite still being horribly disorganised). At least I know I'm here for the birth. I can get up in the middle of the night if required and be at the hospital inside the hour if need be. Despite BB playing the I want my mum card whenever he's not getting his own way, I have the ability of rough and tumble play which distracts him every single time - though at the rate he is growing that won't last forever either. Whilst she goes through a never ending cycle of sleep, loo, sleep, loo......I can now do what all good dad's do.......cook, clean, iron and amuse the toddler. Yes, in 2008 that constitutes a favourable shift of domestic power in the mans favour! By 2030, we'll be bloody breastfeeding. Talking of which, in 6 months time when Bambino is finished with them, the balance of power will no doubt be restored.....

Calm down, calm down

Christ! I'm sure it's not suppose to be like this for dad! How old is too old to start smoking? Right now it seems like a realistic option, and if you know how much I hate the bloody habit, you'll get an idea of where I'm coming from.
The last few days have been slightly stressing, but only because I am still at work. The lovely weather in which you lot have been basking on the beach lead to, as it usually does, "pea soup" out here. Normally, I am not they type to flap over such unavoidable natural phenomenons, but when one knows one may need off in a hurry, then the weather really has to be such that choppers can actually see the bloody rig.
Such thoughts have provoked worries over getting home, or rather not getting home and potentially leaving MPLST up the river without a paddle. It's not very North Sea Tigery, but that has buggered up my sleep a bit! Just the preparation for 4/5 months of sleep deprivation.......
Coupled with that, MPLST has been suffering a few aches and pains as her body prepares itself to let go of the bambino. I can imagine that BB is making life quite hard, but being the martyr that she is, she has so far refused my offers to come home. Tonight though, she sounded exhausted, so I went to my boss (actually his boss - skip the middle man if you want something done) and told him I may be seeking a flight on Monday instead of Wednesday so I can support my Mrs. Oops, that makes her sound like a football team! Fortunately, he was receptive to this, despite the massive workload on at the minute. If it comes to that, I must remember to buy him a beer sometime for being such a good egg.

Bully's Special Prize!

I have learned that with fatherhood comes responsibilities. My web surfing no longer revolves around sport. Nor does it revolve round motorcycling or travelling, like it was back in the days BC (Before Children). At work, I used to while away the hours looking at interesting destinations before booking trips and buggering off somewhere. Occasionally, I would even succumb to treating the wife to something nice, perhaps some cheesy gift, perhaps something altogether more purposeful (make of that what you will) or worst of all, I'd play Sudoku. Gone are those days I'm afraid.

I've just looked at my bookmarks on my PC at work. Those are the things I did. I can't remember the last time I used most of them. I can't even remember the last good book I read that wasn't about parenting in some way, shape or fashion! I'm turning into the bloke I used to hate! Let's face it, who in their 20's thought they needed to read about parenting? Not me your honour!

But now....now I seek out kids stuff....or dad's stuff....or parent's stuff everywhere I look. Sure I can think about holidays, but not the type we did BC, so there's less enthusiasm for this at the moment. I read timesonline, and I'm almost ashamed to admit I read the Life and Style section before the news or sport. What the hell is going on here? Fiona's blog (over there on the right) often has a useful pearl of wisdom lurking somewhere that helps me in the part time dad (or rather ex husband) role. The last few books I've read, whilst mostly funny, are all about babies. Making them. Growing them. Having them. Looking after them. Relating to them. Then, getting shot of them.......

Even over the course of the last few nights, I've read about talking to teenagers about sex, despite it being an eternity away for me one would hope. Besides which, I thought talking to teenagers about S-E-X was about the same a teaching a fish to have a bath anyway!

I was pleased to find an interesting, if short lived distraction here:http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/travel/holiday_type/gap_travel/article4383578.ece

A welcome little escape from the world of being dad, whether full time or part time.I could have been doing this. We could have. But no, my wife keeps getting bloody pregnant (obviously it's something she's doing, my part cannot be proved until much later!). Surfing the net now like watching the end of Bullseye though....where Jim Bowen says "Never mind! Here's what you could have won!" with far too much glee as he shows the contestants the speedboat.

I wouldn't have it any other way though. Dad's get loads to blether about.

36 Week Scan

Today's scan went well I'm told. Apparently the placenta is well clear of the scar tissue from the last op, so this bun will have the chance to find it's very own way out of the oven.

The scan revealed that Bambino is a little bigger than average, but not freakishly so, slightly big at the waist, and he/she has longer than average legs, so we're both chuffed that the natural birth option is still open at this stage. I dare say Mrs BFS has mixed feelings....on one hand, having had a CS previously, a natural childbirth is her preference, but on the other, the B and F of BFS stand for Big Fat. If my genepool is strongly replicated in the child, her eyes will be watering already at the prospect me thinks!

Likeabike

Recently, I stumbled across this site: http://www.likeabike.co.uk/

The theory is simple, and makes perfect sense to me. I saw how much SS struggled in the early stages of learning because she was dependant on the stabilisers. She kept shifting her hips from one side to the other to steer, this is a hard habit to change.

Seems this method is hugely popular in Europe, and as usual we are lagging behind. The only downside, is that these bikes are quite pricey. Cheaper versions are available, but on the limited reviews I have sourced, it seems you get what you pay for.

Of course, you could always remove the pedals on a cheaper bike too.

I was amazed so few people have seen this. No more stabilisers for us!

I'm going slightly mad

Confusion reigns supreme in my head over one or all of these issues in varying degrees:

1 How Mrs BFS will get to hospital before I get home (if she needs to?)
2 What will we do with BB for the during the birth?
3 Sibling rivalry! Could BB be at a worse age? Me thinks not!
4 Garden chores, getting them done. Lawn, hedge, veggie patch.....
5 Will we chat properly (face to face) about names? The potential list has grown by the way, so much so, it's numbing my brain just thinking about it. No, I won't share but sorry to disappoint, Cliff is not on it.
6 Motorbike, will I ride it or even clean it again this year?
7 Where is the camera charger?
8 Not going to be much of a weekend for SS with me if I spend most of it at hospital, should it come to that.
9 Will I get to see the contraction dance again? This has to be seen to be believed.....picture a cross between Stevie Wonder and MC Hammer.
10 If we get an attractive student midwife, should I request a less attractive one? Apparently, last time I spent far too much time chatting to the midwife. How does one re phrase "Sorry, we'll take the fat ginger burd please" without causing offense?
11 And most nagging on the brain matter - Mrs BFS has a scan on Tuesday to determine if another C section is necessary. Watch this space.

On the plus side, being at work has given me a much needed rest. I have woken up each of the last four days of my own accord, which when you haven't done it recently feels fantastic. I dare say MPLST will be very envious.

Oh, and BB reverted to type today, so my glory lasted only a day. It must be the Muslim in him - he's a wee shi'ite I hear.

One word from me.......

......and MPLST does whatever the hell she likes! Or at least that's what it's been like for the last few months. I urge her to rest, take it easy, put her feet up......you get the picture. But no, no pregnant woman would listen to such common sense, and nor should one push one's luck too far in trying to make her listen either!
Unless of course, you can rely on the child. On Tuesday night when I was putting BB to bed, I gave him the first of many fatherly lectures to come. We'd done the milk, story and brushing of the gnashers, and as I took him to bed, I explained in a very daddy sort of way, that I would be gone in the morning as I had to go to work and make some pennies (for mummy's new size 10 jeans - no pressure then m'darlin!) Being as daddy wasn't going to be home for a few weeks, and mummy has the baby in her tummy, I asked that he make an extra special effort to be a good boy for mummy, and that he understands that mummy can't lift him all of the time like he wants, because she is using some of her strength to help grow the baby, just like she did when he was in there.
Today, BB surpassed even the most ambitious dads wishes though. He changed the game playing rules. Instead of dragging mum off round the house, down the drive, up the stairs or simply standing in front of her with his arms up as he does, this is what happened today. As mum came off the sofa to play with him, he sternly shouted "MUMMY!" and pointed to the sofa and only seemed pleased once she'd returned to her designated spot. He repeated this until she played along. So one happy toddler and one rested wife. Excellent!
Obviously, I am taking deserved credit for this miracle change in behaviour and I reserve the right not to inform the world wide web if he should revert to type tomorrow.

It's ok for her!

Tonight, I'm at work in the North Sea. I'll be here for 10 more nights, yet my wife is in her 36th week. She sent me an email tonight saying that at the end of this week she'll be full term! Great! There is a realisation that I might struggle to make it home for the birth now. More a fear than a realisation I suppose. I tried to explain that is was ok for her, she's guaranteed to be there for it! Fortunately, for my sake, she has a sense of humour.
This pregnancy has passed in a blur. Last time around, we seemed to take each week at a time and appreicate the changes that were happening. We started looking at names from 20 weeks. We went to 2 sets of antenatal classes. We had time. My wife worked up until week 38 and we exchanged emails regularly at work about the things we need to do or discuss.
This time we have a toddler to look after. It's harder than it sounds I have found. Suddenly we are on week 36, the baby is 4/5ths engaged and we don't even have proper shortlist of potential names. We made 2 out of 4 antenatal classes, despite acknowledging that we have forgotten so much from last time around. Of course, we are trying to do this whilst maintaining an unmaintainable house and garden alongside caring for the toddler too. For apparently clever people, we're not being too sharp, are we?