.. and thats all over..

I sometimes get chided as an old curmudgeon, and not always in jest.

At Christmas I really do deserve the label though. It's an old cliche straight out of Charles Dickens, but the older I get, the more antipathy I have towards the festive season.

That probably paints me as some sort of 19th Century money lender fit for a visit of the ghost of Christmas Past, doesn't it? Well I'm not that bad, I plan my present purchases months in advance and hoover up the gifts for E, X and little D with glee. Our little one wasn't too fussed about December 25th this year, but our big one made out like a bandit, as always. X has graduated onto the mega Lego now. Massive, bling-y robot ninja sets which make my childhood Lego offerings look like simple wooden toys in comparison. As I write this his mech ninja robot and ninja helicopter dealie bestride our living room table like a pair of Power Ranger monsters squaring up to one another. I've probably named both those sets wrongly,  and X would correct me briskly if he heard. Like when you tell a child to take his elbows of the table at mealtimes. 

This Xmas was mercifully brief. We loaded up or presents into the car and drove over to see my Mum on the 24th. After a fitful night of sleep the present opening started in earnest. X had the patience of a saint whilst the grown-ups rattled tiredly around him in the house. He would've started opening his gifts at 4am if he had the chance (as I once did, to my shame), but held himself back with admirable restraint. With the rain falling in a steady stream, we strapped ourselves in for the wait before the orgy of eating started. And then we ate. And ate some more. The white wine flowed freely and by evening I felt bloated and ready enough to head home. 

To sum it up, for me Xmas has just become an excuse for large amounts of grub and booze. Hardly a new revelation that, but as time goes by it grates on my sensibilities increasingly. Come early afternoon on the 25th my inner puritan wants to be active, preferably outdoors, instead of slumped on the couch feeling like an anaconda which has just eaten a hippo. 

Hopefully next year we can do things differently. E wants to visit her family come Xmas 2013 and if I had two grand to drop on some plane tickets I wouldn't think twice. In the meantime I busy myself with post Christmas errands and look out the window, hoping for the rain to stop. 

A.    

So the end of the world came and went..

Boom!

.. and I'm sort of relieved!

Yesterday morning I heard some rumbling in the sky about 11.05am (the apocalypse coming a few minutes early perhaps?) but the rest of the day passed without incident. 

Maybe the Mayans just have much longer calendars than we do. Perhaps their 31st December only comes every 5,000 years on their calendars. Justification for a big fuss when the time does come, I guess...

Anyway, it seems I've been good this year and Santa has come early. Someone has unintentionally dropped a very chunky payment into my bank account just in time for Xmas. I did a very weary double take when my checking my bank balance when I clocked the "1" on my balance where usually there is a "0" instead. Ching! ching!    Unfortunately these things tend to get noticed, I'm sure someone will come asking for it back in January and it'd be a bit cheeky to say "no!". Still, I'll consider it a loan and use it for matched betting purposes in the meantime.

A. 

Man Cave business from the dinner table..

As the Man Cave feels as welcoming as a bleak Scottish hillside right now, I've relocated.

I type this at the dining table in the front room. I need no scarf, I can't see my breath when I exhale so its' luxury in comparison.

As E and D are out today I have the chance to blog and get the Xmas cards out the way. Been listening to CDs again too, something I haven't really done for years. As a music beard stroker I wouldve loved E's music collection; Elvis Costello, OK-Go, Frank Black and loads of American bands I've never heard of who look like they have loads of cred. 

Makes me wince when I think about having the Rocky III soundtrack on my phone. Well, almost.

Anyway, we're preparing for Xmas, as I'm sure you are too. It's been manic with the arrival of little D this year so our efforts have been hampered somewhat. The old tree still sits boxed in the attic as it has been superceeded by a 3 foot wall mounted number instead!  X was writing out cards for his buddies the other week, acting like a de facto Santa Claus. In each envelope he dropped a chocolate coin, the size of which depended on whether each child had been 'naughty' or 'nice' that year.

As for X, he's been a good lad this year. He will make out like a bandit this year.. like he does every year.. Frankly, I worry where we will store his presents for Xmas 2012 though.. new wing of the house made out of lego perhaps? Just a thought.

Of course, as 2012 draws to a close there's (supposedly) something else ending. Those pesky Incas must've been having a laugh when they decided to end some of their calendars on 21/12/2012. If it does though, this could be my last post before being flooded/ having the poles reversed under me/ being blown off the ground by Planet X. Hardly something to linger on, right?  I wait the commercial cash in with interest, however.

Nonetheless it might be worth picking up some candles and filling the car up on Thursday 20th just in case - you can get my birthday present to me early too if you want!

At least the Shamen put a positive spin on it.

A.

Wub..wub...wubwubwubwub...

I'll admit, I slipped of the cultural and marketing radars about 2001. Since then everything that is new, cutting edge or Zeitgeist-y strikes me with total indifference.

Dubstep is one of these things that makes me shrug my shoulders. 'It sounds like Stephen Hawking beatboxing, so what?'  I thought. However, it seems someone always finds an angle to fire my interest on the cultural lucky dip that is Youtube. Among all the Bieber-esque turds was this nugget of pure amusement I had to watch several times:

X loves the I-Pad. A little TOO much.

So I've been laid low with gastric flu over the last few days..

Fever, stonking headache, bowels like roiling like steaming gravy. A real triple threat..

Anyway, X loves using my I-Pad. He enjoys watching Youtube where people play Mario themed games of every sort. Characters with names such as 'Chugga Conroy' and 'Nintendo Capri Sun'. Delightfully nerdy sorts with peppy personalities and a large following, you might now the sort. These people are like friends to him and he shares their nuggets of wisdom with us on a daily basis. Its pretty much most days that I will hear the words: "Alex, can I watch my videos on your I-Pad?". I didn't expect him to be asking at the moment I was chundering down the toilet though:

I charge past X on the stairs and mutter something like "Excuse me, I'm gonna be sick in the toilet" before slamming the door behind me.

X: 'Are you being sick in the toilet, Alex?'

Me: being sick in the toilet... [ I thought that was an obvious enough response for him]

X: 'Are you being sick in the toilet, Alex?'

Me: Yes.

X: [pause] 'Can I watch my videos on your I-Pad, Alex?'

The boy has a one track mind to marvel at. Even when you're crouched over the toilet...

It felt like Autumn ambushed me...

One minute all October sunshine and cloudless skies, next minute winter dimness on my work commute.

I'm the only one still wearing shorts on the school pick-up though. The ladies and gents of Molesey regard me with curious eyes as I march up to get X at home time.. the cold is a state of mind I guess! 

Most of my activities have been indoors of late. Our visit to the local fireworks display was a great success though. I dreaded little D freaking out at the bangs and the whistles like all the toddlers around us, but she did me proud. Whilst X oohed and aahed in all the right places, she just looked a bit bored!  

Did you catch any of the US Elections at all? I followed them with some interest (the lesser of two evils won in my mind, thankfully). It made me wonder - how could anyone really vote for Romney, a man who looks like he lights his cigars with one hundred dollar bills? The only non-white people he meets are probably the ones who clean his pool! He just reminded me of a younger, more photogenic version of these two: 

Obama is marginally better in my mind. At least he doesn't (blatantly) send US troops abroad to protect the financial needs of his backers. You'd imagine that Romney would have a long list of 'well wishers' demanding some action to make them a few bucks if he got the job.. like invading Iran perhaps? Instead we have Mr O for another term, caning the credit card to pay the bills for a little longer until he has no other choice. I watched his acceptance speech with a sort of flat bemusement. He trotted out all the patriotic platitudes you would expect and the crowd whooped and hollered their joy (or was it relief?). I reckon the people from Schmoyoho said it best.

A.

In these newly straitened times

.. you've gotta pay the bills in increasingly creative ways.

All my previous little indulgences seem like grand extravagances nowadays. For instance, when was the last time I had a night out? The idea of dropping fifty notes to cover expenses scares the cr*p out of me these days. As well as the fact I'd be slurring after three pints these days.. of course..

That's ones of the reasons I'm back on facebook. If I can't tolerate/sustain a social life like I used to, I reckon it can't hurt to start recirculating again. It'd be great to catch up with folks in real life too - and to those interested readers (you know who you are) I've been missing chatting and mean to flag you down in real life soon.

So anyway, back to creative financing. I've been contriving to make my money stretch that much further than it used to. Matched betting is still in full affect and I'm looking to make some tentative steps on eBay when the opportunity arises. Add a hearty dose of thrift and I'm almost in Little House on The Prairie mode. No trapping dinner or pickling what comes out of the garden yet, but 2012 has been a year with little spare money to put aside...

That's ok though. I take my pleasures where I can, I work hard - I aim to look after my folks as much as possible and have a beautiful new girl to dote over. By the way, I've entered D into The Sun's beautiful baby contest which will run in November - will update you with developments should they arise.

Anyway, that's your lot. Hope you're all doing well.

A. 

From the mouths of babes

Just a quick one, as my life is alot busier than it used to be.

Got a spare bit of time up in the Man Cave putting together the last reports for my kiddies at work. Yes, I write reports now. I'm that figure of authority who some kids call in hushed tones "teacher". 

They're a lovely bunch and I'm becoming attuned to their failures and successes already. I feel their pain when they're sad or unwell and their joy when something makes them happy. I've realised how I miss the flights of fancy of the young, X's frivolity has been replaced by a realism and reassurance which is beyond his years and little D is a little way from saying anything really interesting yet..

So my children are a new source of wonder. They mangle the language, revelling in the fusion of the everyday and bodily functions. However a few nuggets do sneak out, like diamonds in the coalface of childhood wisdom. My favourite was from 'B'; a lively boy with a taste for being chased around outside and dancing to the music of Michael Jackson. "Next time we go outside Alex, you have to be a zombie Michael Jackson" he told me one morning. 

Hey kids, do you really want me to chase you? 

That one will be hard to beat, but I'm sure more will come in due course.

On nappies, and talking like a wrestler.

They've let me loose properly on the kids now.. and it's been fun!

I'd been dreading the nappy changing. The thought of cleaning up after some poor child with gastric flu scared the living daylights out of me. I imagined the worst case scenario of clearing up tidal waves of sh*t armed with only a pair of rubber gloves and some wet wipes..like some sort of fecal 'Perfect Storm'. Now there's an analogy for you to chew over..

To be honest, it hasn't been that bad so far. In fact little D's liquidy pesto specials have been a lot more disturbing than anything my kids have served up so far. Friday just gone I clocked a ripe pong coming from one of the boys and thought "Oh oh. This will be a good one". Think lakes of farmyard slurry spread over the fields. It kinda smelt like that. 

Imagine my surprise when I unwrapped the little blighter's nappy and observed a little offering of what looked like play-dough. Smooth...even earth tones... pretty inoffensive really.  Cleaned up a treat too! 

In other news, I keep catching myself speaking in the third person at work. It make's good sense as the kids are clear as to whom I'm talking about. However should it creep into home life I'll start feeling like Hulk Hogan

Clear up the book corner for the Hulkster, kids. OOOOOH YEAHHHH!

I love the smell of burnt flesh in the morning..

You don't want so see what's under here.. trust me..

So I visited my doctor for an operation. Nothing serious, mind. The lump on my forearm was getting a little sore and needed removing. I found myself chatting with a lovely nurse called Linda who explained about the finer points of cysts and other lumps and bumps before introducing me to Doctor K the surgeon. 

It was all over so quick! Doctor K spent a couple of minutes diagnosing before getting me to sit down and roll up my sleeve. Boom! he slapped on the iodine before the needle of anaesthetic came out. "You'll feel a slight sting" he said whilst the local did its' work (I can still feel my fingers buzzing at the memory as I type this). I turned away and felt an odd pulling sensation as the Good Doctor removed his quarry from my arm. He then pulled out a surgical torch to cauterise the wound before leaving the room. "Call me if you have any problems, Linda" he said over his shoulder before disappearing out the door again. Coffee and donut still warm and waiting in his office, no doubt. 

At this point the nausea kicked in. Was it the meds tripping me out? Or the adrenaline dump being cleared out of my veins? I don't know - all I remember was the sweats breaking out on my temple and the worried glances of Nurse L who gave me a cold compress and a glass of water whilst I road the whitie wave back to level ground again. The smell of burnt flesh is something you don't forget. That metallic tang stuck in my nostrils as the nurse opened the windows to chase it back out the room again.

In short, I survived. The clammy waxwork who looked back at me from the mirror looked as relieved as I felt! Two days on I have a scab which looks like someone stubbed a big fat cigar out on my arm, but that's OK by me.

Maybe I'll freak out the children with it if they misbehave. Tell 'em it's what they're having for dinner!   ;)

Just a thought. 

A. 

A visit to the New Forest with 'Uncle Andy'

That's X's 'Uncle Andy'. Not mine, before you get any ideas.

Autumn is starting to make its' presence felt. I still drink up the warmth of the sun when it hits my skin, but the shade feels cooler. The steady trickle of dead leaves falling from tree to ground gathers pace. It's amazing to think we're three quarters through yet another year.

For me this Summer has been a matter of taking stock. Little D is finding her way in the world and I've finally snagged a job I hope to really sink my teeth into. We have welcomed a few visitors this year, and I think 'Uncle Andy' from Chicago will probably be our last of 2012. Saturday just gone we visited the New Forest to show him the moors, the ponies and the River Avon.. which he promptly leapt into:

Here is my favourite pic of us mugging for the camera together with a cold and soggy looking Andy. He earns the title of  'Wild Man of the Avon' based on this image alone!

Technical Difficulties: Part Deux

The Man Cave desktop is down again. Back to the angry budgie routine of last time around.

I plan to give it a few days off to convalesce, in the meantime I'll rattle a few words off at the table downstairs.

So, I've start my new job with the kiddies, and 10 hour days are as taxing as you'd imagine. Still, having a client base of the under fives has benefits which working alongside the grownups certainly doesnt. They do not grumble, backbite or bicker, or play passive-aggressive power games when they don't get what they want. Kids are genuine, unjaded young people and their enthusiasm can be infectious. They can make your day with a funny comment or an unpremeditated gesture of kindness.

On the downside, the little buggers get stroppy, have minimal attention spans and cannot always control their personal hygiene. When a preschooler announces he's filled his pants by walking around with them dropped down to his ankles.. it can be a shock!

In short, I'm loving it. I drag my sore muscles out the door at hometime flecked with paint but feeling like I've given my all.

One minute she's mewling like a kitten...

... next she sounds like a pissed off seagull.

Those kids grow up quick y'know. It felt like I'd just blinked and she'd started trying to eat things. What next, bringing the first boyfriend around??!! For posterity I've decided to savour the moments a little more. Please check out 'A Dizzy a Day' for regular pictures of our little girl.

I'll aim to post up till her birthday and we'll see how it goes.

A.

Dizzy at 1/2

I can't believe she is 6 months already! She has turned into a wonderfully happy little baby who brightens up our day with her cute little cackles.

D is curious, she'll try her hardest steal your pint as you drink it. She's very chatty and has that cheeky charm  that her brother and mother possess in spades. In short my girl is turning into a little person in her own right and it's a joy to watch. 

A sad, sad day

RIP Old Smoky 2009-2012

This week poor Old Smoky burnt has last after a steady decline. He was as a bright, gleaming furnace in his youth and swallowed up anything you put inside. During those early days, it was like having your own hotline to The Pit for disposal of waste. OS was the resting place for pizza boxes, various garden waste and even a dead hedgehog (?!), before gaining gaping hole in his middle this winter which finally did for him. He will be sorely missed.

A.

Little D and X at Hayling Island

Cheap rides, a wide beach and plenty of sunshine, it was like Christmas had come early for X. Finally, the sea has warmed up enough not to have a testicle-tightening when you go paddling in it. Little D seemed to have a pleasant afternoon too, she has perfected her slightly knitted brow expression of "WTF is going on?" as the photos here show.

The look of total bewilderment has a comical quality about it. However if she's still pulling this expression at 28, I might not think it's such an endearing expression.

In the meantime, D's development has been coming on nicely. She can now hold  herself upright in her bouncy chair like Al Pacino in the sauna scene out of Scarface. She can lean forward in her pushchair, swing one arm outside of it, and peak at the outside world like a trucker scoping the world from the front of his cab. In other news, our girl has added a few more animal noises to her repertoire, especially when she's pissed off. It amazes me how when screaming at the top of her voice, you can put her down (for nappy changing, as an example) and she will continue at an even higher pitch!

The amount of noise that emanates from babies never ceases to amaze me. Our little Buddha Baby now has a cry as loud and insistent as a train whistle. Maybe she won't be as different to her older brother as we first thought. 

A.

Technical Difficulties(!)

So the Man Cave Desktop has been playing up recently. A few days after refusing to turn itself on and emitting a chorus of bleeps like a pissed off techno budgerigar, it has relented.

Gives me the chance to send a quick post with a picture of little D, she is away on a road trip with E and X. Meanwhile, I'm home alone with the cat for company. On the good news front, someone has decided to give me a job in the field where I've been volunteering for so long, I start in September. Let's face it, I'm not made to be chained to a desk in a poorly air conditioned office, drinking cheap coffee so of course I'm thrilled. 

In the meantime I have August to catch a little sunshine (possibly), do some matched betting (probably) and help out with little D (definitely!).  

A few words from work..

A troupe of dancing phoneboxes and Big Bens in the Olympic opening ceremony perhaps? 

I've been waiting for more revelations to come my way. Lightning bolts which might be of interest to you. Nothing doing right now. 

This Summer is turning out to be a tight one for us. I'm taking tremendous satisfaction from making the finances stretch. I've always been spartan at heart I reckon. 

With all the family birthdays out the way (save the cat), I'm looking towards Christmas. Couldn't care for it much myself, but I would love to make things the best they can be for X and little D. 

X is well and truly infatuated with his lego these days, he knows what he likes and goes about getting it with a strength of purpose I admire. This boy will make a truly formidable individual as he gets older, he's handsome, smart, charismatic and destined for great things in life. I see my role as polishing of some of the rough edges - the need to be a good role model for him has never been clearer in my mind than it is right now. 

Already we can see the personality shining out in little D. She may be only a few months old, but you can tell she has a sweet, kind little soul that we both cherish. She laughs and chatters now and her eyes light up with a sense of amazement at the world which I find fascinating. Apparently E took her down to the laundrette last weekend, D found the driers hysterically funny and was laughing throughout her trip. She is a very happy baby and I will do everything I can to ensure her happy times continue. 

As for me? I really got a kick out of the Victoria and Albert museum the other day. We were entertaining some German friends of E (smart, civilised and well mannered people - why cant we be like that as a nation?) and took them up for a museum day in town. I had my usual revelation about how much I love stuff from the past and have no truc with things of today. Makes me realise that the shrill and gaudy marketing is not for the likes of myself. Frankly, I dread the Olympics. The usual advertising suspects are plastered about the place more prominently than usual. I mean, you might has well paint the Macdonald's logo all over the roads and be done with it... 

Is it just me, or is this Olympics more of an orgy of sponsorship than other ones? When athletes are touting Subway sandwiches it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth viz a viz the Olympian spirit. 

Will still catch the opening ceremony though. The British as a nation are normally incapable of putting on a show with the panache of other countries, so I'll be in front of my TV with a sense of interest. If the usual, tired London cliches are not trotted out I will be pleasantly surprised.

A.

The little things you notice..

Believe it or not, you're life goes even quicker when you stick another kid in the middle of it!

Little D will be 5 months old on 28th of July. She has gone from helpless marsupial baby to chunky Mothercare poster-girl. The gummy grins are now accompanied by full on chuckles and her own special brand of 'conversation'. She's turning into a very chatty little lady.

It's been a joy to see her start gaining control of her arms and legs. D regards her hands with a particular species of interest before (most of the time) successfully sticking them in her mouth. Looks like teething is on the way, she drools, she blows raspberries and attacks teething toys/my finger/the cat with an unsettling keenness... still, a single smile can make my day regardless of circumstances..

In other news my life is mostly a tired haze. We take care of the little ones in life as much as we can, support each other and move on to the following day. I half joked to X how I was measuring my life in intervals between shows on CBeebees and that made him chuckle. Kind of true though, you realise how important the role telly has in keeping you sane when you have a four month old - little D loves Iggle Piggle and co. She stays transfixed for minutes at a time which gives me the time to rush into the kitchen to get my next cup of coffee....

To me, some of the shows are pretty disturbing. I spotted Mr Tumble the other week, a frankly disturbing TV clown who reminded me of Pennywise out of Stephen King's 'IT'. 

Tumble or Pennywise?

I will never look at childrens' entertainers the same way again, I swear.

I'm still punctuating my awake hours with working for The Man. The most unedifying part of my time, I can tell you. Luckily my muse is still around and he keeps me in good spirits, Dan is now 31 and fills my days with moments of bawdy humour, chat about Alex Jones and regular shoulder massages (he's good too!). I can tell how good his weekend has been by how much he slumps in his chair in the office come Monday morning. His facial skin tone also gives a clue, porkpie meat tinted and a light sheen to it means maximum enjoyment. 

When you start comparing your child to others..

In simplest terms, I'll admit to being the doting father. Hell, my little girl is cute.

It's only been four months, but already some of her personality is starting to shine through. I is a mellow, easy going child in temperament so different from other babies I see. We had the NCT meeting last weekend, it was a chance for the Mums to get swap stories and the Dads to how doting they were with their kids. Of the four babies on show there were two alert little girls, as cute as woodland animals from any Disney movie, little I and another girl who looked like a cross between Bob Hoskins and a Russian Mobster... yes a girl... she sounded like a raven too.. poor little thing. 

I find myself wondering: how will she compare to her peers at nursery age? Unlike her big bro who will take on the world head first (and probably beat it!), she is a delicate little flower who we'll need to support as much as we can. I've spent the last four years concerned about the mental well-being of X and now it's time to focus on my own daughter too. Let's face it, you give them all the love and happy times you can (X and I get plenty), what they do with it is up to them.

Kissy Face Dizzy

My thoughts on nappy changing..

A revelation came to me a few days ago. I was compelled to share it with you. 


Coming to terms with nappy change is like learning to roll up a spliff... 


Now, stop scoffing and I'll explain further... 

When baby first arrives you regard it like a ticking bomb, any prod or poke might set it off. 

After a few days, you start getting used to this little life you are suddenly responsible for. Taking care of junior's needs becomes a priority and as someone said "those nappies won't change themselves, y'know" 

Anyway, to start you find a nice flat surface, somewhere quiet where you won't be distracted. You carefully position all the tools of the trade within arms reach, and there are some odd similarities 


This: 

replaces this: 

Meanwhile these: 

 replace these:

..and are alot more difficult to store in your jacket pocket!

You treat your cargo with same respect, making sure nothing slips out from between your fingers and hits the floor. Of course retrieving a little spilt baccie from the floor is less of a big deal than retrieving a baby! 

In both cases it's all about tightness, the aesthetic pleasure of a nice, tightly rolled joint is the same as your first tightly attached nappy. The disappointment of a baggy nappy is the same as a loose, sagging joint, except this time the baby shares the disappointment too. 

I haven't reached the proficient level yet, hopefully one day I'll be able to do the nappies like some of my old student buddies used to skin up. Of course I wouldn't be able to do it in a dark field, at 1o'clock in the morning in the middle of a gale (one of my toking buddies did this, you know who you are, and I'm still impressed nearly 20 years on), but one day I hope to make the job pretty seamless for all concerned. 

On an related note: once you mastered the rolling basics as a teen, there was an option to graduate onto something a little more advanced. Your standard smoke could be shaped into tulips, your T bars and all the other crazy stuff that tokers with too much time on their hands have come up with. 

This makes me think, is it the same with nappy changing????!! 

Just a thought...... 

A.

Dizzy in the tub

The old cliches about signs of the Zodiac are there for a reason. She's a Pisces and can't get enough of the water!

A.

Dizzy and her lovely little head

So its June already (!!??). Startling to think we're nearly at the halfway point for twenty-twelve already. For me, it's been a monumental year.. obviously.. Little Miss (above) is now 3 months old and does a fine line in pouty lower lips and Hello Kitty product placement.

I'm thrilled she has such a finely shaped skull unlike her troll-like papa. I'm helpless to resist running my fingers over the top of her lovely little head. It reminds me of a point during my single days, years back. On my daily commute I would pass the students attending our local uni. One girl who I'd pass had the most perfectly shaped  bonce which would drive me to distraction. For some irrational reason, I just found it fascinating! Visions of me running my hands over her shaven head like Mystic Meg would run through my head as I passed her in the street.... 

If she'd known. I'm sure I'd seen alot less of her...

In other news I'm taking on our overgrown back garden. It's a cross between bucolic meadow and knee deep Jurassic woodland. Even the local cats no longer dare to visit, fearing what lies in wait to ambush them, probably. The lawnmower I've picked up from Argos hopefully has the power to take on what I've left to grow over the last year due to obvious reasons. With the extended weekend thanks to the Jubilee (gawd bless you Ma'am), I plan to don my gardening gauntlets as soon as the sun comes out.

A.

The internet never forgets..

Never write tired, unless you have to. I've been guilty of neglecting MFTMK and now try to make amends. Lack of sleep be damned!

As I've now landed myself something office-related to occupy my hours, I've got to squeeze all daily tasks into an even short period of time. All those 'to do's' are now written in my trusty jotter and I try to get them done when I can... the lot of a young family I guess, I get to my blog when everyone else has gone to bed and often stumble into bed soon after.

Anyway one of the most prominent to-do's was finally ticked off this weekend. We've finally liberated my mother from the clutches of her feckless husband! For years she has moaned about his shortcomings, yet fear has kept her stuck in his clutches. The family was resigned to this continuing, my sister and I exchanged many words of exasperation and anger. Mine more symphathetic than hers' yet just as ineffective. 

However, we did not count on the single mindedness and charm of E. Her powers of sweet manipulation did what my candour and my sister's bludgeoning could not, they convinced her to take the step of leaving him and get a place of her own! That was the easy part, she was dreading the 'I'm leaving you' speech and I can understand why. Even though the guy is an inept, deceptive self-aggrandising sociopath my Mother had a sense of loyalty to him and a fear of leaving him to fend for himself. Like an errant child she felt responsible for the guy as she knew he'd just f**k up royally if she didn't take care of his needs. 

E also found the perfect excuse for my Mum to give him the bad news. C (let's call him), had been touting himself on several adult websites looking for company! She searched for his name and the town they lived in and got hits on "LoopyLove", "GirlsDateForFree" and a number of other sites were adults go to do things they probably shouldn't. The perfect early birthday present, the old fool used his full name and home town in his profiles and was just a google search away from being discovered, has been for years! 

The interweb is just like an elephant. It stores away dodgy deeds away in the recesses of its' memory, ready to be plucked out and smacked on your head when payback time comes. C has obviously rued the day he started playing away (he's deleted two of profiles from one site already) and I see it as retribution for a thoroughly unpleasant man. 

You want anything on those???

Time to get that homing pigeon I was planning to buy..

Shows we are in a worrying state of affairs when a vital staple goes up 33% in price...

Come the end of April in the UK, the cost of stamps rises from 45p to 60p (first class) and 36p to 50p (second class). That's about one third for each. As we all post a letter from time to time, and will continue for years to come, it might be wise to pick some up.

Do massive price rises like this occur in other countries? I doubt it. Just an indicator of the measures The Man will take to even get to even the pennies in your pocket. People will have to get more creative when time for sending the Xmas cards comes around, I reckon.

A.

Some of the things I've learnt about babies are...

1. They are warm little bundles who keep your hands toasty: Statement of the bleedin' obvious I guess. For me, it's a fundamental reminder of the little life we've created. She might snuffle like pig, fart like a backfiring motorcycle and produce warm, heavy nappies for me to dispose of. However, she's the newest member of the family and as important to me as all the rest of them.. apart from the cat.. marginally...

2. Some babies are cuter than others: Maybe my proud Dad hat sits a little too securely atop my head right now, it's just I notice some really unappealing children. Ours is but a fragrant princess in comparison.

3. When they start paying attention to things, it can be hilarious: What a fascinating world it must be for Isadora as I carry her through it. Even our front room which I pace up and down in to calm her, seems to be full of wonders that hold her in rapt fascination. My daughters' eyes have this look of drugged fascination when something gets her interest. The latest something being Baby Mozart -  a soothing mix of colourful children's toys, baroque style Muzak and nursery rhyme voice overs. Its all too soothing and hypnotic to be honest - a touch of Stoner Mozart I'm sure you'll agree.

And that's what comes to mind for the moment. I will be summoned back to my duties very shortly I'm sure. You find days becomes very short when there's a tiny little person who runs the place. It's like a parent who allocates duties out to children who have nothing to do:
"Just sat down? I need you to clean my bottom."
"Enjoying dinner? I want you to pace up and down outside in the cold to calm me down" - Shanklin IOW, April 2012. I swear Isadora must've taken offence at the decor of our restaurant or something.
"Nice shirt. Let me sick up down the front of it".


Anyway, I've probably spent too much time in the Man Cave now, I can hear my little one's indignant howls in the distance.

A.

Weekend away and playing the tour guide.

So Granny is off back home soon; it's been a hard week...

I've decided parenthood is like being logistics manager and PA all rolled into one. You're there to ensure everything runs smoothly for the party, all their needs are catered for and the nappies are disposed of in a timely manner.  

This isn't a bad thing. Hell, it's what I signed up for as payment for the wonderful little creature I get to see every day. However, relaxation has been pitched to the curb in the last week due to the steady schedule of infant placation and herding the bigger people around. Before setting off to the Isle of Wight I worked tirelessly to ensure everything ran smoothly, ticking off the boxes to make our outward journey as stress-less as possible:

Sandwiches? Check!

X dressed in good time? Check!

Diet coke for the driver? Check!

Baby chaperone whilst the driver takes her shower? Check!

Baby placator when she's kicking off? Check! As I sat in my uncle's flat staring up at a portrait of my grandparents I wondered how they would deal with inconsolable great-grandchildren. Sometimes you can do with a hand during the night shift, pacing up and down the carpet. Or a pair of earplugs...

Tour guide for the overseas guest when you just want to stare off into the distance? Check!

As I say, you do what you gotta do. However, I hadn't realised the state of elevated readiness I was in till the evening when we ordered dinner. When the first sip of beer passed my lips the adrenaline just seeped away and I melted into my chair. Another thing the single guy should know is: women absolutely love babies. Seriously. Love. Them. When previously I could make my way around unmolested, now I gotta make conversation with the ladies who physically go weak at the knees when they see my brand new baby! "Aaahhh!" They say. 

"Isn't she cute?" They coo.

"What's her name?" They ask.

And on it goes. I've mused creating a card to be handed out to passers-by who show interest. It consists of the following statements:

1. Yes.

2. Isadora.

3. 8 pounds 14 ounces.

4. 5 and half weeks now.

The entrepreneur in me wonders, is there money in this? Could I hire my baby out to friends in need? I would hide close-by whilst they chat the girls up with Isadora as wingman? Or is that wingbaby? 

Business plan being formulated now - all offers considered! ;)

A.

The other kind of birthday..

You think he likes it?

With all the focus on the smallest member of the family, today is X's chance to be spoilt and doted upon. He turns seven today and has been the happy recipient of a large box of goodies acquired over the last few months. I myself have been scouring the stores since before xmas. It's really satisfying to see my efforts appreciated. 

As you can probably see, Lego is still the thing. Generic city or medieval sets have been replaced by something with a little more pep - in this case 'Ninjago': a sort of ninja meets Skeletor meets PG rated Mortal Kombat. Here X has just received Garmadon's Fortress and he's beside himself with joy. It's the reason I enjoy buying stuff for him, he's still young enough to be genuinely enthusiastic about stuff, not cool and aloof. When he stops getting all excited about his birthday and Xmas, I'll stop buying him stuff...

..just kidding...

Latest Baby News: little I continues to be the most rewarding creature I have ever seen. It's difficult to put into words to explain to the childless, but I just cannot get enough of every little expression, every little noise, every little gesture she makes. I guess the novelty will wear off one day, but in the meantime I'm drinking in how soft she is, her striking blue eyes, her chubby cheeks that make her look like a cross between Alfred Hitchcock and a bulldog and countless other features which just feel so right when I'm staring down at her. Of course she can only cry to get her point across, and nappy time will sometimes elicit the most heart wrenching shriek that strikes both E and myself to the core. 

Its still early days, I marvel at the number of nappies she gets through, and how warm and heavy they are when I chuck 'em in the bin. One day she will be so much more than the snuffling, pudgy little bundle she is right now. In the meantime I'm enjoying my first steps of parenthood.

A.

She's ready for her closeup now..

My camera has not been far from my side in the last weeks. Every eye-roll, every smile, every fart, has to be captured for posterity. It was ever thus for the parents of brand new children though, I guess.

Seated in her vibrating chair (22 days old?). Debating whether to fall asleep or scream in outrage for being put down!

You can't help but think your kid is the most beautiful child in the world. Are people just being polite when they are cooing over your little one? Or are they really as taken with her as you? It brings out a competitive streak which can was deeply hidden for years previous.   

Burping time: lean her forward, prop chin up on hand and rub back vigorously. A rattling belch is still unexpected but very gratifying to hear.

Having a bowling ball for a skull must be a drag. I watch with amusement as Isadora tries to raise her head, or it slumps to the side after a massive feed. She has strong little fingers, tries to slip out of your grip like a salmon would, but hasn't mastered holding up that big old skull of hers yet. 

A.

Bringing up baby

Firstly, thanks so much for the cards and well wishes. Seems to be fatigue and multiple errand running which keep me from getting in touch, it will happen, I promise.

Ok, we're two and a half weeks in now. The little bundle of confused looking poop and piddle has now become a larger, more aware bundle of poop and piddle. Isadora has passed her birth weight today and a young life of weight gain seems assured.

She pulls some wondrous expressions during her day. My particular favourite is the strained bulldog like face just before she's about to fart. And boy can she crank them out - its like Terrence and Phillip out of South Park. Of course the farting often precedes something more. She fills her nappies with a regularity which is impressive, but it's not the lake of liquid sewage I was dreading. Too be honest, with the milk diet it just looks like french mustard... and with that thought I shan't be eating french mustard again!   

Our baby continues to be a very mellow child. Normally the skittish sort, Maeve the cat sits nearby watching her scream at nappy changing time with mild interest. Isadora took the barium swallow at hospital with only the minimum of protest - would've been within her rights to scream the house down. As a sidenote a baby with a gobfull of barium reminded me of Ian Holm spitting up white stuff in Aliens.. these things come up at the funniest of times, don't they?

When she's awake, you can't help but watch her little eyes taking in the world. Mum gets an expression of total fascination (and rightfully so) whilst the rest of the world is regarded with dumb fascination. Her "Why the **** are you carrying me around? Where's mother?" expression makes my day everytime I see it. 

Anyway, that's my first meditations on living with a newborn baby. Will add more when they come to me.  

Cheers,

Alex

Tough week...but its' been worth it.

All the baby stuff we've acquired now has a use. This makes me very happy.

We're finally back at home, and what a week it's been. I watched my daughter breast stroke into the world at 1.25 on 28th February.. a memory I wont lose in a hurry. Three points spring to mind about labour and delivery of a child:

a) It looks f**king excruciating: being around X has sworn me of foul language (pardon the pun), but watching E's confidence turn into bowel wrenching agony after her waters had broken gives me huge respect and sympathy for womankind. Her gasps and whispers of "fudge" as an early doors contraction worked its' way through her became full throated bellows and screams of "F**K!!!" several hours down the line. When the midwives finally gave her gas and air to numb the pain I watched in some shock as she sucked it up like a kid with an enormous smoothie. I tried some too - bit trippy, but not my bag to be honest. E would like a canister to take home as a souvenir though..
b) The damaged wreaked is extraordinary: that three and a half kilo bowling ball knocks everything out of its way and brings a load of blood with it. The recuperative powers of the body must be remarkable to squeeze a baby down a gap only a couple of centimetres across and recover from it afterwards.
c) My first sight of the placenta was an eye-opener: we idly discussed the merits of taking placenta home to fry a piece up, I said I was game. It looked like an enormous bloody steak with a bicycle padlock cable sticking out of it so I decided to give that a miss.

Once Baby Isadora was out (her "what the hell did I just go through?" expression was particularly priceless), we discovered all wasn't as rosy as we had hoped. After passing a particularly uncomfortable looking poop she was admitted to the neonatal unit for a week. During that time she experienced reflux which drove us all to distraction, being cooped up on the midwife unit at Kingston Hospital took it's toll on E, especially after all we had gone through. However it has all worked out well in the end. We are home as a family, and are ready to experience our future together. I myself have been introduced to the world of nappies and baby waste and have not been filled with horror. This is a plus. Isadora meanwhile possesses a Zen-like calm which we just marvel at. She also happens to be the most beautiful child I've ever seen.

I'll admit I am biased and of course people always say the nicest things once they see your baby. However, she has the Old Lady Seal of Approval already - our hospital check-up today produced a clutch of elderly admirers.


... so we must've done something right.  

All feels good. We drove home from the hospital in the early spring sunshine and I couldn't help think that Isadora had brought it with her. However I've heard the first couple of months with a new wee-one are tough so I'll be tempering my joie de vivre with a sense of guarded realism. We'll see how things go..

A.

Pulling my last all-nighter.

Little Isadora Jean front crawled her way into the world at 1.25am on Monday 28th of February. She tipped the scales at 7lbs 7oz and is the most beautiful creature I have ever laid my eyes on.

Currently little I is under observation at Kingston Hospital neonatal unit. However she is pooing and crying with equal ease right now so all signs are looking positive.

More to come when I have it.

A.

Alex predicts...

From time to time I still dabble in money and economics issues. The nearest thing I get to currency speculation  is the latest round of the Champions League, mind..

Napoli draw no bet against Chelsea? Just a thought...

One thing I've been following with interest is machinations in Europe. Will the Euro go for a burton when Greece has to pay its' next round of bills? Will the other countries have a whip round to keep the lights on in Athens? My crystal ball says the Greeks will get their money, but it won't be enough. Come end of March (that soon!) the Euro will sink, the Dollar will rise and the price of gold and silver will drop off the charts like..like.. [insert dramatic plunge metaphor here].

You heard it here first.. perhaps..


A.

2 down... 5 to go..

Two of my fellow NCT travellers have now welcomes little bundles of joy into the world. I'm thrilled for them. I'm one of the remaining five fathers-to-be waiting for the big moment. Exciting.. and terrifying too, of course!

My turn will be coming soon, the ticking clock feels in evidence more than it has ever before. For the next week we'll be staying close to home (if Isadora lets us) - E remains enormous and achey whilst I continue on errand duty (water/massage/empty the bin/feed the cat/etc/etc).

A.

Dead Dog Update

Having a browse through my blog visitor stats today dug up something new. Yes, the dead dog story in an urban legend! I'm disappointed (and still partly in denial), but here's some evidence.

The world got a more ploddingly mundane upon reading that. I will have to get my marvel out of life from elsewhere, it seems...

A.

Baa (seriously, WTF???!!!)

Bringing a kid up right is hard.. and my respect for those who produce well-rounded children is high.

X being nearly 7 going on 17 is a challenge,  he has passion which can be either inspiring or infuriating. We try our best to calm him when he's wired and provide plenty of stimulation. That boy has a mind like a sponge and I want to provide enough raw material for it to grow.

Youtube provides a fertile ground for Xander to fire his imagination. Amongst all the clips of Mario and kittens we tend to stumble across something that makes his day. The latest online offerings are by "Cyriak" a computer animator from the South of England, his work varies from the whimsical to the downright disturbing.  
X hasn't been freaked out enough to have nightmares yet, but he hasn't watched 'Baa':  part cute farmyard  homage and part John Carpenters 'The Thing'.

 A.

So the nursery is taking shape..

The monolithic Ikea boxes have yielded today and we now have two chunky looking wardrobes in place. Isadora now has a bedroom too, complete with Hello Kitty prints along one wall. Sitting in utero, I'm sure she would approve!

We got a light dusting of the cold stuff over the weekend. X took great pleasure in his (muddy) snow angels but our (mostly his) joy was short lived. Come the school run today it'd mostly disappeared - he insisted on stamping on the black clumps of slush that remained. On another topic, I'm meeting up with my dad's-to-be group tomorrow evening for beer and curry. This is actually quite exciting for me! Like the first day going on holiday with your parents, you hope to meet some kids to hang out with to make your stay more enjoyable. Well, my stay in parenthood certainly won't be a holiday - but I look forward to some kindred spirits to make life a little easier. Ellen has gathered around her sisters to support and console in times of need... and I want a piece of that too. Or someone to share a beer with whilst we discuss the perils of sleep deprivation..

On the work front, I've been doing some nesting of my own. Had the last day at the gym on Sunday, part of our drawing in of energies to welcome our little girl into the world. Hopefully some semblance of normality will return come April, mentally, physically and financially. In the meantime we sleep, do our Xander duties, and I try to get out as much as I can to keep sane. How strong does cabin fever strike the parents of a new baby? I haven't given it much thought but guess I'll have to now!

Regards from the Man Cave.

A.

Gingers Have SOUL! (autotune remix)

Are you ready for pain...?

Not much longer now..

Stretchmarks? I don't think she's that fussed!

Just as I think Ellen can get no larger, her abdomen grows outwards a further inch the following morning!

We're at 34ish weeks now. Her enormous bump seems gravity defying when view it every morning, one of those Mother Nature carvings made flesh. I haven't had one of those 'f**k I'm gonna be a Dad' moments yet. When we're driving our freshly minted little one home one day late Feb/ early March I'm sure reality will kick in soon enough.

The NCT classes have been eye opening. Seeing blokes as bemused as I was a reassurance. The girls wanted to learn, support each other and network, whereas us guys wanted to be down the boozer instead. Helpful stuff though, the big mystery of before and after birth has been cleared slightly, and watching a middle age woman demonstrate newborn breast feeding was something I won't forget. 3 hours learning about the ways of the bob was way too much for me, when our tutor started passing around A3 laminated pics of grimacing babies being sprayed by breast milk I could only think of one thing..

As did most of the other guys present..

Anyway, if you haven't felt the sensation of an unborn baby kicking or wriggling, it's something words cannot describe. Sometimes a gentle squeeze reveals a back, or a bottom, or a head. There's something in there, biding its time before coming out into the world to make you life as different as it can be.

I'm sure this'll be a wondrous thing. The fatherhood tales of former work colleagues used to make me cringe with horror, but right now I'm really excited as to where the journey will take us in the next few years...Nappies and baby sick excluded of course...

A.

A dead dog in a suitcase..

An anecdote told my boss about a friend of a friend.. truth, urban legend - you decide.

My friend had a friend. This was a girl who lives out of London who house-sat one evening for a family who had a cherished family dog. That evening the dog, who was old and poorly, passed away. The girl was horrified! In a flap she phoned up a vet who lived in London. He recommended she brought the dog down to his surgery so he could keep an eye on it. "How do I get down there?", she thought, "I don't have a car!". So, she dug up an old suitcase which she could fit the (thankfully medium sized) canine inside and opted to catch the train down to London to see her friend.

Trouble is, a dead dog, even a smallish one, weighs a far amount. As the journey progressed a smell started to build in the carriage, and people started to eye her in a most disturbing manner. She was mortified! The girl managed to get her load onto the train but struggled to disembark at her destination. A considerate looking young man took pity on her struggles and volunteered to help. "What you got in here?", he asked, "This bag weighs a ton!" Obviously not able to tell the truth she blurted out the first thing which came to mind: "Speakers! I'm giving them to a friend."

Thoroughly flustered by her day thus far, she was even more shocked when the would be Samaritan ran off with her suitcase!

Kim Jung Il and other things..

So we've been attending the NCT classes: a chance for expectant mothers to mingle and their partners to look awkward and confused.

To be honest, I feel I have acquitted myself pretty well. I'm finding the subject matter pretty interesting and I can answer some of the questions our tutor asks! In short, the other guys look like they'd rather be elsewhere - I'm actually enjoying it.

It helps that our tutor has some quite fascinating toys and props with which to learn us. My favourite so far is a laminated series of A4 cutaway drawings showing the final stages of delivery. Y'know the sort of thing, waters break, baby crowns, turns 90 degrees before fully emerging, followed by the placenta ejection to finish. We were charged in putting the pics in order on the carpet and stood over them after, admiring our work. The pic of the newly delivered baby was particularly oriental and wizened. As most babies are, I guess. However the babe who was staring up at me happened to be the doppleganger of ex Korean dictator Kim Jung Il! Just needed the sunglasses to complete the look, it was uncanny....

In other news, I've just turned 35. Bleh. No new age related observations for you right now. I've got other things to focus on in truth. My favourite present by a mile was from Xander, he gave me two packs of bacon. Yes, bacon! The salty gift which the whole family can enjoy! I thought I'd run out of things to marvel and be amused about, but such a distinctive gift has restored my faith in life.

A.

In the War On Stuff..

..We're actually winning!..

The North Face of the Mountain was challenging to even the most experienced climbers..

Before: the mountain of stuff which in just one short week has nearly become a nursery space for our little one. Isadora is about 8 weeks from arriving (early threats of arrival aside) and Ellen is kitting out her baby bedroom with panache and a deft touch. To be honest I can only get excited by Hello Kitty decor to a certain extent - but it seems E cannot get enough of the stuff. Nonetheless, I watch the acquisition of baby toys and paraphernalia with buoyant good humour. Hefting the bits of the Ikea wardrobe into place well and truly did my back in.. but it's all for a good cause.

'After' picture to come in due course.

A.