Noo girl

My first day back in the rat race was very gentle but no doubt it's going to get manic very soon. My back (which I buggered 2 days ago carrying a whining Jambeans into our bed in the middle of the night) just about held out, though I did take my maximum allowable dose of painkillers, and the only other casualties are my eyes, which are sooooooooo tired from staring at a screen all day.

Morrison called me to say "Good Luck" and "you're not a housewife any more" which sounded good to the ears. Fingers crossed I'm still chirpy about it all at the end of the week.

Catharsis

Just been into work to hand in my pass and clear my desk and it felt great. New job starts on Monday - bring it on!

That frazzled feeling again

After Jambeans was up all night on Tuesday night feverish and breathless, Felix thought it was his turn to engage in some nocturnal shennanigans, so last night he was up 3 times with I don't know what so today we're both feeling extremely tired and frazzled. This is NOT how I managed my last week before work to pan out.

Continuing on the anal theme...

Before Felix was born we had a big clearout and bf managed to fill an entire binbag with paper that needed shredding. So off we toddled to John Lewis and bough the best shredder we could find, and in my pre-birth ignorance I sweetly said "Don't you worry boyfried, I'll do it all when I'm at home."

And it's only gone and taken me 7 months. But yesterday I finally got to the end of it.

I shred for Britain.

Bring on the medals please.

Here we go again...

Jasmine is worryingly sick again.

Sentimental Old Fool that I am

So, my FIRST full day sans enfants of any sort. And what do I do?

Hotfoot it down to the local spa?

Nope.

Indulge in some retail therapy?

Nope.

Kick back relax and watch some chick flicks?

Nope.

I file.

And I'm not talking fingers and toes either. No, instead of basking into my newly found freedom I launch into that unbalanced tower of paper that has amassed over months and I file it all away into various, erm, files. And it takes me two bloody hours of pure unadulterated efficiency.
And now I'm sitting here not knowing whether to worry that I really am that anal or feel satisfied that it's done and out of the way. A bit of both I guess. But whilst filing I uncovered this gem of a report that Jasmine got from nursery back in May:

"Jasmine has become so chatty about everything. She is singing and dancing all day, or laughing. She is so happy, enjoying everything we do. She is also more active and able to do more activities. Jasmine loves action songs and games in the garden."

It's such a joy to see that desperately small and vulnerable bundle of premature baby flourish into a lovely little girl.

It so works!

Felix' new nickname, as invented by the bf, is Squealy-Bin.

Hahahahahahahaha. It SO works!

To Queue or Kew?

When we stayed at Fowey we took the opportunity to visit the much vaunted Eden Project, along with, let me think, oh, only the whole of the rest of Cornwall and Devon. The queues started in the car, before we even got to the front gates, rendering our "20 minute drive" into a 40-minute piss take. From the car parks they bus you to the entrance gate. Come again? You have to queue for a bus? (I know, I know, the irony of The Eden Project bussing everyone in - two words spring to mind: Carbon. Footprint.) So instead we walked the path for 15 minutes to... the back of the queue leading to the entrance gate. Felix was cool. Jambeans was entertaining the masses by singing 'Horsey Horsey' quite tunelessly at the top of her voice. Unsurprisingly Babymomma and Poppa were getting antsy.

Another 15 minutes later we were farmed into the entrance hall where we were fooled by the 14 ticket desks into thinking this would be a breeze, but didn't account for the incompetent laziness of the 14 stupid Janners manning the ticket desks. Which is why, when there were only 2 people ahead of us, it took us yet another 15 minutes to get to the front of the queue. Where we were informed by the cashier that her till had broken and we would have to go to the back of another queue. AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH. So boyfried harrumphed off to queue in a silent, manly strop, and I harrumphed forward with Felix with a huffy, about-to-have-a-London-style-hissy-fit scowl on my face. Which was fortunate because from my vantage point I could see that the cashier fixed her till in about 3 seconds and dully went on issuing tickets without even trying to call us back. So we barged back in and, finally, paid our £30 dues to enter...

The Eden (Queueing) Project.

We've arrived. Thirty quid poorer, totally pissed off and we've only just got inside the front door. The Eden Project had better blow us away to make up for that. So we look around, and all I can see is people. Where are the Biomes? Oh, you have to walk another 10 minutes to enter.

Stop. Sigh. Try to Think Positive.

So off we trot, and as we get closer, the throng gets thicker and thicker, till finally we're in the cafe-canteen-lunchy-type-area that acts as entranceway to the Biomes and we muscle our way forward and finally we're in the Rainforest Biome and are being herded around a one way system Ikea style and it's hot and humid and there are simply billions of people everywhere and to top it all off Felix starts whining his hungry whine so we have to turn around: we've barely been inside 5 minutes.

Around we turn, fight our way back to the cafe-canteen-lunchy-type-area, queue to find a seat (and curiously, get to witness some people queueing to see how a pasty is made), feed the bub, get lunch, have the privilege of eating it with a spoon and fork because all the knives have run out and then decide to forgo our £30 entrance and GET THE HELL OUT.

So we're trying to get the hell out, and guess what? We even have to queue to exit the goddam Eden Queueing Project.

We've been there 2 hours, spent about £50 and haven't seen a single decent plant. Thankfully, we laugh. And resolve never to go back.

By contrast, yesterday was the most perfectly sunny day so we went to Kew and it was total bliss. Our very own Eden, right here in London.

Who do you know in your neighbourhood?

Since becoming a stay-at-home momma involves your entire world shrinking to the immediate area around your house, it's fitting that in my last couple of weeks at home that I've got to know a lot more neighbours. The cause that's bringing us together is a planning application to convert the 3 bed semi behind our garden into 4 flats. Everyone is up in arms, in a very middle class way, of course, and I've surprised myself by zealously knocking on doors, writing letters and urging people to raise objections.

What I've learned is that our neighbours are mainly a jolly nice lot. Warm, considerate, welcoming, and it's lovely getting to know the names and faces of people who live around you.

The other thing I've learned is that neighbours love to talk, and talk and talk. Which wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the fact I have 3 unadulterated hours of ME time whilst the kids are at nursery and I want to use them for ME goddammit.

Settling Babymomma in

After Felix' first, somewhat tearful, day at nursery the feeling that I was abandoning him started to gnaw at me terribly. The next day he looked up at me adoringly from his changing mat, babbling and giggling and cooing, and I felt an enormous wave of guilt wash over me. I just scooped him up and kissed him all over apologising for what I was about to do. I was still teary by the time we got to nursery. I spent the next few hours hiding out in the staff room and worrying. I'm know I'm not alone - lots of other mums have been through this before. Hell, even I've been through it before, so I should know better.

The basic premise is that you don't believe anyone else will look after your darling one as well as you can, or understand his cries, or respond to his needs. After all, you've only gone and devoted every waking hour of the last 7 months (plus many a sleeping one...) to your precious one and it's taken that long to really learn his language. How will they know that he likes to drink half his milk, wait for an hour, then finish it off? Who will play the standing game with him when he's upset? How will they realise when he's hungry? What happens if they just leave him crying on the floor? and so on.

So whilst I was anguishing downstairs, Felix was upstairs having a blast and after 2 hours I collected a happy, cooing baby.

There was an additional bonus. I got to spy on Jambeans playing through the staff room window, and that was totally precious.

Settling Felix In

My new job starts in 2 weeks time. Felix needs settling into nursery. Today was his first day - he stayed in the baby room for just over an hour. I was there too, but on a chair on the other side of the room and very hands off. Felix did okay, but did get overwhelmed a few times. Then he would cry his panicky cry. God I found that hard. I hear it so rarely. He's not used to so much pandemonium and when it got too much for him it took every ounce of self restraint not to go scoop him up and give him a huge mummycud.

Fabulous Present Time

Just as post-holiday blues were beginning to settle in got a surprise delivery from Amazon addressed to Jasmine & Felix. The brain immediately starts ticking into overtime - who's it from? what's the occasion? what (book) is it? - and am totally perplexed as there are no birthdays due and none of the rellies really use the internet for shopping, so I rip it open and the Mary Dude has only gone and sent one OF THE BEST BOOKS EVER. Immediately I am transported back to my childhood, snuggling up in my mum's bed poring over Richard Scarry pictures. I am resolved to put it on the highest bookshelf so I can and keep it for me, me, me... (no, not really).

The thing is, I can't for the life of me work out why she is sending us the present. Apparently it's for a nice day out at Fowey, but she was the one who drove herself and the delicious Baby Kate (aka Dudetta, aka Kate-o-Rama, aka Kate-o-Matic) all the way out to Fowey to meet us and we end up getting the present?

Friends, sigh. They're Bloody Wonderful.

The Dairy is Dead. Long Live the Dairy.

My boobs had pretty much settled down about a week after Felix had been weaned. So at the earliest possible opportunity I packed up the nursing bras and put on that special lacy and underwired number I had bought at the beginning of my maternity leave especially for this occasion.

Only 2 days into my holiday and grrr, had a little 'accident' which made me realise that you only need the teensiest, tiniest drop of liquid on clothes for that damp stain to appear and everyone to stare at your nips.

(p.s. not me in the pic, though obviously I could understand if you were mistaken, and not even the bra I bought either - just imagine something/someone similar but with bigger boobs).

Our holiday, in brief

So, our 3-week holiday, aargghh. Where to start? So much to cover. So many memories to capture. The short version is that we all had a great time. Spent a night at Nani's, then to Granma's for a week, then to Granpa's for a couple of days, then bf went back to work for a week (boo hoo) and I stayed at Granma's with the kiddisplinks and Nani came down to visit for a couple of days, then bf came back for a week (hurrah) during which we disappeared to Fowey Hall for 3 nights sans grandparents of any description (double hurrah) then we went back to Granma's for a night, back to Nani's for a night and then, breathe, home. Oh, and in between we also managed to do much catching up with Uncle Angus, Auntie Tina and Cousin Abagael as well as Auntie Leon, Uncle Mary and oooh their gorgeous new baby Kate.

I feel that Jasmine stopped being a toddler this holiday, and has really turned into a little girl. Her speech is coming along at a rate - it's now moving into full sentences, with plurals, personal pronouns, possessives and tenses - and she sounds so grown up when she says things like 'I'm feeling ok;' 'Look Daddy, I'm driving!' or, yesterday's new one, 'I don't like it' (gulp). On holiday she also rode a bike for the first time, did the washing up, went to the circus, danced at a birthday party, practically lived in her Wendy House and graduated to a proper bed. She is embracing this new stage of maturity and independence with a lot of giggly excitement and bossy charm.

Felix, quite simply, hit the handsome button this holiday. He is just getting more and more gorgeous each day. Oh yes, he also hit the loud button. One day he realised he could squeal much louder that all the pigs in Pigdom. And so he did, throwing me totally off track as now there are a whole load of new noises to mean, hungry, bored, tired, need a new nappy etc. etc. He has also started mooncrawling (trying to crawl only going backwards), sitting quite beautifully, grabbing for toys and shoving anything in his mouth with a vigour I had quite forgotten about.

You know your holiday's over when...

...your period starts the day you get back.

Bugger.