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!