Chez Seema

Seema, my sister, is not very well so I Florence Nightingale'd round to her gaff armed with two bags of Waitrose finest to keep her going for the next few days. She's super skinny and I suspect she eats really badly, if at all.

As I write Seema is convalescing on her sofa, keeping her cat Billy captive with her under the duvet. She is bonkers mad about that cat. I mean totally obsessed.

I never really understood, until I had a baby.

If you're happy and you know it

The bub has started to clap her hands.
It is soo cute.

Crabfish

Jazzie's crab movement from a few weeks ago has evolved into something my yoga teacher tells me is called the fish . Looking at it, it's definitely a mixture between the two. Jazzie now rests on the crown of her head and lifts her neck, shoulders, forearms, chest, belly and bottom off the ground and uses this to shuffle around.

Weird girl.

Why can't she just roll over?

Last week of freedom

The lovely Jazzie bird slept like the proverbial from 7pm last night to 4.45am this morning. I was dead to the world and couldn't get up even if I wanted to so we just let her whimper for about 45 mins then woke her up at 7am to feed her. Felt a twinge of guilt when I noticed her sleeve was dripping in saliva where she had chewed on it, and she was ravenously hungry, but generally am very pleased that she managed to hold on.

The next few days represent my last week of freedom before I return to work part time. I'm not nervous any more, and think I'm really going to enjoy it. The other good news is I'm not ill, haven't got a period any more, and don't have anything urgent that needs to be done. So true to form I went back to bed for a lie in this morning - and slept until midday.

Whoops...

I'm refusing to feel too bad about wasting half the day away because I reckon this is the last time for at least 10 years I'm going to be able to do that. I might as well enjoy it. And right now I feel refreshed, and, um, really happy, for the first time in days, so it's definitely been worth it.

I'm totally sleep obsessed aren't I?

About Jasmine's birth part 2: pain

So where was I - oh yes, here, thinking I had somehow become mildly incontinent, feeling quite grumpy but trying to be good-humoured, and setting off for the hospital for my midwife's appointment.

Oh man, that journey was a struggle. I say 'journey' like it's some kind of epic distance but in fact it's more like a trip, or a skip to the hospital - out the house, up a short hill to the tube, over the railway bridge to the other side of the platform, short tube ride, off at Archway, up a bigger hill to the hospital and you're there. Total journey time ca. 30 mins.

Only no sooner had I left the house than my back started playing up pretty badly. I was conscious that I must have been shuffling along quite slowly, and did that old man thing by hobbling over and putting my hand on my back. I'm not sure it gave me the oomph to get me up the hill but I felt silly and self-conscious and thought that it would give passers-by more of an idea why a perfectly healthy-looking young-ish pregnant lady couldn't outpace a snail.

The warning signs still didn't kick in though. I'm pretty used to back pain after a car accident about 10 years ago left me with a chronic injury that means my back aches at least once a week when I'm not pregnant. I always knew that carrying a big bump around could make my back hurt a lot, so I just assumed that it was rotten luck for my back to flare up and for me to be mildly incontinent in the same week, chalked it up to the third trimester and struggled womanfully on.

By the time I got to the tube the pain had passed and I felt fine enough to sprint over the bridge to get the train that was on the far platform. But once I was off at Archway and on the big hill I felt like rubbish again. I was huffing and puffing and having to take really small steps, and my back was in agony. I'm not a great one for popping pills, normally content to suffer in silence, but I started to fantasise about paracetamol.

More self-pitying moaning

Dp went for a run after our walk and has been reminding me of his great achievement all day. Not what I want to hear when I am going through a major trauma about my own lack of a waist/ double chin/ crapness at exercise.

On our walk he announced he was going for a run straight after. Then, once he was in his running gear and was 60s from sprinting out the door, he asked if it was ok. Stupid question right? As if my answer is going to change the fact that he's going for a run. Next time, rather than say 'is it OK if I go wherever on Friday, and do you mind looking after Jazzie?" I'm just going to pick up the car keys (to his car) and bugger off. Why couldn't he just ask nicely to begin with? I never say no.

But then I didn't do much while he was running, just folded the washing, made Jazzie's lunch, emptied the bin, changed the bag and funnily enough didn't quite find enough time to feed myself breakfast.

Hmm, caught myself at it again. It's exactly this kind of petty-snippety-snipey-moany-whiney type behaviour I am desperately trying to shake off and be a NICE PERSON instead.

Next week will be better

Think I have been a very negative bunny this week.

Made a real effort today to haul myself out of bed and snap out of it. Not easy, as Jazzie had me up at 5am. She also managed a screaming fit at half past midnight for an hour. In fairness I did go give her a cuddle 20 mins in, which just made it a whole lot worse. I gave her a muslin to chew on, but when I was back in bed I switched the bub-mon off and fell asleep so didn't take it away. When I got her at 5am the muzzie was wrapped fairly snugly around her neck - not dangerously so, but my red warning flag went up and it was more than enough to make me feel tres guilty. Effective deterrent though.

Went to feed the ducks before going to Pedro and Lax's for scrummy lunch. Carried Jazzie in the Baby Bjorn, thinking the extra load would be a good extra workout. The legs coped fine but my shoulders were aching after 30 mins.

But it was a beautiful spring-like day and helped shake off the SAD.

Sunday morning, feel like shit

i have a headache, and period pain, and a snotty nose, and it's only 9am.

New toy

So, erm, sleeping - Jazzie back on track and sleeping through till 05.30 / 06.00 with occasional microyelps in the middle of the night. All good.

Yesterday we bought a new toy, in the shape of a camcorder, hee hee. It's our Christmas present to ourselves and its great fun taking videos of Jasmine. The first one we took she rolled over (front to back) for us for the first time in ages. What a doll. Only bad thing about the camcorder is that you can't hide double chins/ bad complexions/ middle-aged spread. My boobs look alright though, in a large'n'squashy post-natal kind of way, though I still yearn for the firm'n'pert pre-children little puppies they used to be. Generally though, seeing me video'd has made me feel even more depressed about my appearance than usual.

I want a chuftie badge

Today boyfie woke in a grizzle with toothache, so he was in pain and fed up. There's not much he can do to find out about his bad tooth until Monday, and having spent a whole week feeling exactly the same, only for very different reasons, I thought I would just try and cheer him up.

Seeing as he was a bit inconsolable I didn't fancy my chances much at lifting his spirits myself so I told him to just do his favourite things today, citing playing PS2, going to the golf range, playing guitar and eating yummy food. What I omitted to do, like Keira Knightley in Pirates of the Carribean, was to be more specific about my terms. Like how much PlayStation was acceptable and whether doing fun stuff also excluded any parental responsibility.

So I found myself, doing, well pretty much everything to do with Jazzie today with the exception of 3 nappies. And I cooked lunch, and did a load of washing, and unloaded the dishwasher and washed all the pans from last night's dinner and washed all the pans again after lunch and managed to keep up a lively stream of conversation with my mum, who was here for a visit, without snapping. I have been (cue fanfare) SooperGirrrllll today.

Now I'm absolutely cream crackered knackered. And I estimate that today boyfie has played PS2 for about 2 hours, went to driving range for 1 hour, played guitar for about 1/2 hour, did some work this morning for about 1 hour and napped for about 1 hour. That's 5 and 1/2 incredible hours of boyfried time. I can't remember the last time I had 5 and 1/2 hours spare like that. But then boyfie doesn't normally have 5 and 1/2 hours spare like that either. It's normally about 3 hours. And at the weekend I always sleep for an extra hour than him, so it's more like 2 hours. But think about it - 2 WHOLE HOURS SPARE EACH DAY, which for us is Fri thru' Sun, which makes 6 WHOLE HOURS SPARE EVERY WEEKEND.

So, as you can see, I'm quite torn between feeling like I've been a good girlfriend, by giving dp a day off really, and feeling a bit pushover-unappreciated and like I've amassed a huge, 8 months x 4 weeks x 6 hours time debt. I got a lovely thank you for making lunch from dp, but I think the rest of the days' (weeks'/ months' etc.) effort has gone unnoticed.

in summary: I WANT A CHUFTIE BADGE

Sore loser

Just threw a stupid strop over Trivial Pursuit (which I lost, again, though not in as humiliating a way as normal) 'cos boyfried wouldn't budge an inch (as per bloody usual) on a sports question for a pie I got very very very nearly right and instead he played as if he were Jezza Paxman doing the finals of University Challenge. We were both on 5 bits of pie each so he was obviously panicking that I might, just once in my life, beat him at Triv. And to be fair I was all excited 'cos I thought that maybe, for once in my life, and especially after a really shitty day, I might actually win a game.

So when he didn't give me that last bit of pie I got all girly-moody and lost interest in the game and in my mind was all 'lets play to the bloody rules then'. When I did get a few questions wrong after that he'd add some comment to the answer (such a common habit of his I have found it worthy of mention in his biog) which normally is endearing and impressive but when I am tired and moody and losing I think he just wants to show off what an irritatingly clever dick he is, and to make me feel very very very stupid indeed, which is exactly the opposite of what I need when I'm trying to get the last pie and it's a bloody sports question, and i've got my period and i've had a rough day.

I got stroppier, so when I next landed on the orange pie square he tried to give me a clue to the Ian Rush question, but I had already given up on that 'cos I obviously had no bloody chance in hell of ever guessing, then next time around he tried to actually give me the pie when I said "Olga whatsherface" but completely couldn't remember her surname, and wasn't actually sure I ever knew it was Corbett in the first place, and all that trying to help me made me even more irritated because I'd rather he just bent a little earlier when I was very very very nearly right, than when I was obviously wrong or didn't have a clue, and I might just have won a bloody game of Triv for once in my life, or at least, won a bit of orange pie.

My evening hadn't exactly started brilliantly either, as i was tired and crabby because Jazzie's been a real handful today, opting to cry most of the afternoon (she is still a snot-faced monkey and teething quite a lot and is generally fed up with it all poor thing) and that made me really fed up because she was just inconsolable.

It's not all bad news. After I stopped watching last night, Arsenal equalised the match - so the miracle I was hoping for happened. Dp told me that fans were taunting Tottenham by singing "Two-nil, and you fucked it up" over and over, which made me giggle.

Baby yoga (not really baby yoga, 'cos its for the mums, only we get to take our babies with us) was quite good today, and we did some new stretches, only I felt like a complete fat, stiff lump because i could barely move into them and everyone else looked thin and supple and supple and thin and thin and thin and moved into them quite comfortably. It was also boiling hot in the room and everyone was in t-shirts but I wouldn't take my cardie off (and it was cashmere = super hot) because all I had on underneath was a stretchy white vest top with nowhere to hide my biscuit barrel belly.

Jazzie's sleeping like the proverbial right now. With luck she'll go right through. Last night she did a fab effort, and after a wee yelping fit sometime before midnight (can't remember when) she slept till 06.30.

About Jasmine's birth part 1: leaking wee

Jazzie was born at 4.15pm on 27th April 2006 at the Whittington Hospital in Archway, North London. She was born by emergency caesarian at 31 weeks + 1 day, making her just under 9 weeks premature.

It was a bloody shock I can tell you.

I had a midwife's appointment that morning, which was the most enormous piece of luck, as I can't bear to think what would have happened if I hadn't had to go to the hospital that day.

What was supposed to happen that day was I get to work after my appointment in time for my boss to take me and my team out for lunch. Our treat was very overdue, by about 3 postponements over 4 months. Pregnancy still felt like shit but I was at last keeping food down. And even though it was only lunch, that meant taking it easy and no work for a couple of hours. There was no way in hell I was going to miss it.

At that time, there was obviously a lot about pregnancy that I didn't know - like what a contraction or breaking my waters felt like. As it turns out, both had happened.

In retrospect I think my waters had actually broken 4 days before Jazzie was born. But at the time I didn't realise, mainly because there wasn't a helluva lot of 'water' - just a lot of damp, slightly smelly wetness in my pants that I kept very quiet about. I mean eugh. Like I'm going to tell anyone I wet myself? No sirree. My boyfried has seen me burp, fart, shave my legs, clean my belly button, floss my teeth, wax my lip, vomit just about everywhere, cry messily in public, have a speculum examination (three times) and pass a pregnancy. This was the one last bastion of mystery (i.e. dignity) I had left, and I was clinging onto it. The fact that he's a doctor was immaterial. Rather than confess my worries to my nearest and dearest, I self-diagnosed instead. My pregnancy book (the aptly titled Pregnancy Sucks) told me that incontinence wasn't uncommon at this stage of pregnancy, and that only about 5 million pelvic floor exercises a day would probably cure it.

It wasn't the best news. It didn't help that I had been grumpy for pretty much the whole of the previous day, moaning to anyone who care to listen - I had vomited in the evening for the first time in ages and had gone to bed feeling vaguely nauseous and with an uncomfortably tight tummy. I hadn't woken up feeling much better and sensed an ominous black cloud threatening to ruin my day.

But, true to form, I assumed I was mentally exaggerating how bad I felt, dutifully clenched and released my pelvic floor 10 times, focused on getting to my lunch and set off for the hospital.

Routines are for robots

"Routines are for robots" - that's what the Baby Whisperer (aka my yoga instructor, Lynn, at the Active Birth Centre) said to us last week in yoga. I found myself nodding enthusiastically in agreement, but that's only because I was feeling smug at the fact that Jazzie was finally sleeping through and was on super good form.

This week I am wishing that Jazzie was (were?), in fact, a robot, so i could instruct her to go directly to sleep, to stay asleep, to not pass 'wake up and yelp' and to not collect a poo-check from a parent.

Over the last few nights she has been waking up and yelping lots. Last night she went down at 7pm yelped herself to sleep for 25 mins, woke up at 10.30pm for about 10 mins, again at 01.45 and yelped for 20 mins, then again at 04.00, only briefly, but enough to wake me up, then again at 04.45 when she yelped for 45 mins before I caved in a fed at her at 05.30 when she fell asleep at the breast (!!!!) which is so naughty. i was feeling too gormless and tired to notice so didn't prevent it.

I'm sure it is because Jazzie is still a snot factory. at nursery too she is sleeping quite a lot, sometimes with only 40 minute breaks between her naps, and she is not gobbling her food down with as much vigour as normal. she did her first 8-5.30pm today and coped fine though my heart breaks when i go pick her up and see that she is one of the last few left, and she is still the smallest baby there.

Jazzie's disrupted sleep pattern has been like this for a 3 or 4 nights now, and seeing in print i realise it's not so bad, but it's getting to me and i'm tired and finding it hard to relax. i really want dp to have the baby monitor on his side of the bed, but keep forgetting to ask, and also deep down wish he would offer because that's the new mum equivalent of being given flowers for no reason whatsoever.

Sometimes it's hard to be a woman

...but this has nothing to do with standing by your man. quite the reverse - it's time of the month and i'm feeling super-grizzly. the fact that i am having a period at all makes me angry and resentful because not menstruating was the best thing about being pregnant and having a baby and breastfeeding (after actually having the baby i guess). worse still, i used to have super-light, regular-as-clockwork-every-28-days, no-problem-at-all periods but now i can't tell when they're coming. my pmt seems to last for days (dp would joke it starts as soon as my period ends but i wouldn't be laughing) and i seem to be on a 5-6 week cycle. when they do start they are those awful heavy, crampy, painful, nightmarish ones where i feel as if i'm wading through treacle and my brain turns to fudge and my body feels twice as heavy and i feel just empty and vacant, not to mention IN PAIN. i took some mefenamic acid about an hour ago and it's done nothing, nada, zip, zero, sweet f.a. so far.

the other reason why i'm in such a pissy mood is that it's the semis of the carling cup, tottenham v. arsenal, and i just watched us go 2-0 down as Baptista scored an OWN GOAL. what a fucking tragedy. and there's no Thierry Henry on the bench to save us either, so we need a miracle. i can't bear watching.

and it snowed last night so it's eff cold.

More Jazzie nicknames

• Bub
• The Bub
• The Bubble
• The Bubble-splub
• Jassa-mina
• Jassa-mina bubble-splina
• Jam-se-min
  
• Jam-se-min Bam-se-min
• Jammie Dodger
• Jammie Donut
  
• Jammie Sandwich
• The Sandwich
• The Sandwich Baby

(see also this and this)

The mighty Arsenal

Jazzie has a stinky cold, and woke up and cried for 90 minutes last night.

since we've only just got her to sleep through using the vilified 'leave her to cry' technique, debated for about 20 mins about whether to go to her or not. finally gave in to my instinct and went to her. when i did felt v guilty for having left her for so long - she was pretty frantic and she was crying loads - huge tears were rolling down her face, and snot was poring out of her nose (and mainly into her mouth) but she was still trying to put a brave face on things.

bf and i shoved some calpol down her gullet, most of which she spat out, but thought it might help calm her down. it didn't.

most of day i have done diddly squat but mainly watched telly from the sofa feeling like a fat-biffer-potato-veggie-type-thingy. next week we will all be well again and can go back to the telly-only-on-certain-days rule.

watched the mighty arsenal win 2-1 to man u at home today in a fan-bloody-tastic match but bf did get over-excited again and scare Jazzie half to death with his goal celebrations. there was the goal, then the shout, then the silence, then she wailed in terror. bf said it reminded him of boo in monsters inc - the bit when she sees sully do his scary face and gets frightened. i was fuming but she recovered ok and got a big i'm sorry cuddle from her daddy. lucky girl - being a baby certainly has its perks.

in to work tomorrow :-( i've been trying not to think about it.

About Caroline M and Ben

Caroline is one of my babymomma friends. I met her when her son Benjamin was in the neo-natal unit at the Whittington. She was the first mum to speak to me - we were both tanking our boobs in the pump room. I remember feeling in awe and slightly jealous of the amount of milk she produced (which now I think about it shows that my anxiety about not producing enough milk to feed Jazzie started very early.)

I liked her immediately - it's impossible not to, she's warm, open, friendly and looks like an angel. Green is also her favourite colour. In short, one of Life's Good People. We swapped stories - this was her second pregnancy too, and although it has a fab outcome, her journey to having him was both traumatic and very sad. Her first pregnancy ended in a far more difficult way than our miscarriage, but I still feel that we share something similar and we talk about it sometimes.

The main thing of note about Caroline is that she is an unbelievably good mother. A real natural. I mean the living incarnation of supermum. Benjamin is the happiest and most easy-going baby ever and takes to pretty much everything (e.g. sleeping through after about 3 months!!!!!) like a duck to water. In all the times we've been out together I've not once see him so much as whimper in protest to his surroundings. I'm convinced its because he just picks up on Caroline's chilled out vibe.

Benjamin was born on 20th April at 29 weeks (I think). That makes him 3 weeks younger than Jazzie, if you catch my drift. He is Jazzie's second boyfriend - here they are holding hands. Zayne - more about him later - simply got there first but shhhhh, don't tell Benjamin until he's at least 18 and shame on you Jazzie for being such a baby hussy.

Vomiting boyfried

Martin's visit was fun, but tiring, and my head was buzzing and had a headache and still felt a bit sick so couldn't get to sleep v well and moan moan moan moan. Jazzie went down at 19.00, woke up at 00.18, which was bad timing so I was effing and blinding a bit, but also because the boyfried had woken me up about 30 mins earlier so he could cuddle himself to sleep leaving me still awake. Jazzie only cried for 15 mins tho' then woke up again at 06.38. It's going well.

So it was definitely a bug, as dp has been upchucking all day, and having the shivers and the achey bones. He quarantined himself upstairs while I looked after the bub. Man it's so tiring. I was knackered by 3 o'clock. It's not that long since I was looking after her all day mon-thursday. No wonder I was such a mean basket case. How on earth do full-time mums of two cope?

I really enjoyed making Jazzie's meals today. She had leftover parsnip and courgette mash for breakfast, followed by rice porridge. Made her cauliflower and carrot for lunch today, which she hoovered but has been doing smelly cauliflower burps in my face ever since. Then she demolished lunch leftovers plus a huge bowlful of banana and apple porridge for tea. She's really getting into touching the food - she gets a huge glob on her fingers then inspects it really carefully before grabbing the spoon and gripping onto the bowl really tightly. Not long to go before she's dumping it all over her head. Oh joy.

hurty tummy want my mummy

Felt like poo for most of yesterday. Got completely drenched on way to nursery. When I got there another mummy who was dropping off her baby started pointing at Jazzie and going to the carer 'is that her? is that the new baby? is that the one you were telling me about?' I thought she was a bit bloody rude talking about my baby like that when I was there so was like 'what about her?' in a way that clearly meant 'if you've got something to say, say it to me.'

Apparently the other baby is jealous of Jazzie because she gets a lot of attention from the carer. When I was putting the buggy away her mummy 'joked' about locking me in the cupboard, i laughed but really thought stupid bloody cow.

Then another nice mummy gave me a lift home so i didn't get soaked again and my faith in humanity was restored.

I think that was my first exposure to parent politics.

Think I caught some nasty tummy buggy virus thingy cos after big fuss i just wanted to throw up. Spent all morning in bed, then struggled to Monkey Face to catch up with Caroline and Seema and their respective broods (posing here in highchairs for the first time). Had a good time, seeing the babies really made me miss Jazzie , ate some lunch, but still felt really tired and peeky. Went home, went back to bed, dp thankfully was able to pick Jazzie up and got home just 60 seconds after I violently vomited my whole lunch and remnants of breakfast into the toilet bowl.

Horrible memories of pregnancy came flooding back. I just wanted my mummy.

Jazzie slept ok - she woke up twice at and cried for 10-20 mins each time, at about 11pm and 4.30am. And then woke up in the morning at 7.30am. Not so bad really. Absolute heaven for me to get lie in, but dp had severe case of stress-on-the-brain and could not sleep at all - very unlike him - so each time he was just about to drift off, baby crying woke him up.

Today felt much better. Jazzie's been adorable all day. Went to baby yoga where she behaved impeccably. Think the class is too big now, and am getting bored of paying £3 for parking each time so think I will stop after this set of classes.

Dp came home quite knackered. Doorbell rang. Martin had came over for dinner. I completely forgot he was coming. Doh!

About the boyfried

• Born March 1973
• 6'3", dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, pale skin that crisps up nicely when exposed to the merest hint of sunshine
• Consultant radiologist by trade, a discipline whose profile has been raised and enhanced by Green Wing's Alan Statham
• Very thoughtful and calm, especially in the face of girlfried's occasional hissy fits
• Super clever, and prone to telling you the full etymology/ meaning/ history/ genus/ associated trivia to any question you ask him, particularly if all you needed was a yes or no answer
• Fond of war books, David Attenborough programs, amassing a vast collection of music, playing guitar, golf (yaaawn), cooking, skiing, and when he can't do that - dreaming about skiing, playing Championship Manager (double yaaawn) and dogs
• Works 4 days a week so we have fab family weekends
  
• And he's lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely and the best dad in the world ever

• Boyfried is a nickname that Auntie Leon, dp's best friend gave us (on the left here of the nuns triptych). It's a missing consonants thing and the name has stuck.

Bumshuffling

I'm worried Jazzie may turn out to be a bumshuffler, despite us being model parents and putting her on her tummy every day since she came home from hospital.

Over the last few months she's been developing the art of the crab (like this only with her head, neck and arms on the floor) and is using this to locomote herself. Basically she lies on her back, pushes her feet onto the floor and, arching upwards, lifts her bottom and chest up as far as they will go. Then she lowers her bottom a little bit further up than where it started and shuffles upwards. She loves it and does it pretty much every time we lay her down.

I want her to go back to rolling over from front to back, which she hasn't done for about 3 months, and to learn how to roll over from back to front and to play the piano to concert level and to be a mountaineer and know calculus and to beat Tiger Woods at golf and run her own company and competitive mum competitive mum competitive mum.

She's really loves standing up (supported by her hands) and her sitting gets better every day. She only sits unsupported for about a minute or so but it is tres amusing to watch her body and head go all wibbly wobbly as she tries to control her balance.

Who cares about the cool people anyway?

To hell with it. I'm here, and ready to blog. Anyway, i reckon it should be spelled with an 'o' anyway, like good old English diarrhoea.

So - last night - Jazzie slept through 11 and 1/2 hours, woke up at 6.30am on the dot (which is what we're aiming for), did a full day's work at nursery (9-5), was witnessed smiling, is still drinking water, came home, did a load of giggling and went to bed without fuss.

What a good baby.

And I swam 40 lengths today before pigging out at Carluccios with a very pregnant Jessica.

Note to self - remember this week - there are good phases as well as the bastard hard ones.

dp (aka boyfried) had helluva day at work and I just told him to 'go away' like a bad dog. Feeling tres guilty.

Blogorrhea

Unlucky.
Logged on.
About to post to the blog.
Usual ritual of checking out Urban Dictionary's word of the day first...
...which was this.

Now feel guilty about my intentions...
...and cheated of my entry.

In love with my baby

Picked db up from nursery - she was asleep when I got there so thankfully I didn't have to face any lower lip trembles or looks of recrimination.

Lots of smiles and giggles at home. Dp came from work in and waved at her. She waved back. It was too cute. She's been such an angel this evening.

We're so in love with her it's ridiculous.
I mean totally obsessed. It can't be healthy.

A hive of inactivity

Dad called to say don't visit, he's not feeling well enough. So I have the whole day to myself. This is a rare and precious opportunity - I've only had about 3 days off in the past 9 months - so not a minute to be wasted.

First thing I did - went back to bed. Stayed there until hunger forced me out. Nothing in the fridge that I fancy so am sitting in front of my computer feeling hungry and guilty that I haven't done anything more meaningful yet.

Found the photo of boyfie, Leon and I dressed as nuns. Always good for a laugh.

Back to school sunday feeling

Knackered at 7pm again.

Jazzie slept through again last night, hurray, but after a 10 hour sleep that meant waking up at 5am.
Whoever said it gets easier - you're all a bunch of lying bastards.

Went to London Zoo today, the zoo for posh people. Lots of competitive dads training their toddlers to recite the latin name of the tiger, and the origin of the bactrian camel. It's scary listening to it all. And there was me in amongst them in my girlie voice going "they're sooooo cute. can we get one? huh? huh? pleeeeeeeaaaaaasssseee."

Jazzie doesn't stand a chance.

Darling boyfriend (aka the boyfried abbrev. bf) back to work tomorrow. jazzie back to nursery tomorrow. i have to schlepp to bloody chelsea to wish dad happy 70th birthday - should be a happy occasion but given his circumstances i'm already feeling miserable at the prospect.

mondays suck.

Feel like a cow, look like a porn star

That pretty much sums up breastfeeding.

(btw - the lady in the photo goes by the name of Ursula Udders)

The hidden cost of nursery

A good day today.

Jazzie slept through 11 and 1/2 hours without waking or crying. She's only done that a handful of times before, and it always feels good. My body clock woke me up at 3.30am. So i've got a bit of work to do on that front.

A breakthrough at nursery. Apparently Jazzie managed a smile, and drank more than 2 teaspoons of water from a spoon and fell asleep without being rocked. She still cries quite a lot but it seems to be getting better.

Quite frankly - she could scream all day as long as she looks happy and calm when I go to pick her up, then my conscience is eased.

Wandered over to the temple to retailing that is Brent Cross. Man it was packed - and it's only a Wednesday. (what we thought but aren't allowed to say - to all the people who nicked the car spaces and tables at Carluccios: Get A Job.)

A combination of missing Jazzie, guilt and worry induced us to splurge on baby gear - new jacket, new trousers, new top, new books, new toy.

lesson du jour : Guilt buying = hidden cost of Nursery

My new babymomma blog

I've been a blogger for 1 meagre day and am already feeling ambivalent about the, well, teenage-ness of it all. I'm 33 for chrissake and haven't written a diary since i was 15 and miserable. well, it seems the self-doubt is still there so maybe this will work out.

And I'm not miserable now, just forgetful. My reasons for starting this are that here are some things about my life right now I don't want to forget. I already feel like I've started 8 1/2 months too late because that's when the beautiful Jasmine (aka Jazzie aka Jazz-fried aka Jazzoi aka princess jasmine aka chicken aka Bubblicious aka Splubble bub of bub-fried aka ad nauseam) was born and I just want to capture every moment before it disappears...

But most importantly, make notes. Because that's what I like to do. But also because we hope there's going to be a second one day and my notes will come in damn handy.

So lets hope this bloody well works, having just spurned 20six cos their image upload function doesn't work.

This is what I wrote yesterday:

"Horrendous day today.

Day 4 at nursery. Jasmine did 6 hours, pretty good going, but the lower lip was wobbling madly (hers, not mine) when I picked her up, and this evening she just would not settle down for a nap, opting instead to scream.

And scream.

And scream.

Also went back to work for a planning meeting ahead of the dreaded return. Nothing seemed to have changed - good, in that my comfort zone is still there - but we spent a couple of hours going over familiar territory - same issues, same questions with impossible answers, same personalities saying the same thing yadda yadda. All making me feel very ambivalent about my new role, and whether I will be able to make a positive difference. Especially only doing 3 days/week.

Anyway - got to put the peas on. And then come back and work out how to make this thing look pretty."

Which obviously didn't work as I defected to blogger today.