A giggly afternoon

Sunday. We're aiming for Felix ultimately to nurse in the morning and evenings only, so since bf is around he's in charge of the boy, and I'm in charge of the girl for the day. It feels to the bf that most of the day is spent encouraging Felix to eat. He eats some solids, not a huge amount, but it goes down ok I guess. He's still not eager for the cup.

I, on the other hand, get to play with Jasmine. We go for a long, cheery walk and end up in a cafe eating beans on toast and watching the womens' gymnastics - uneven bars - on a plasma. Jasmine is on great form, and mumbles 'legs, round and round' over and over while giggling hysterically as I spoon beans into her. It feels great to be bub-free for a while and I realise how much I have missed spending quality time with my daughter.

Angry with the BBC and still prone to Olympic bouts of sentimentality

It turns out that the opening ceremony of the Olympics was bloody amazing. I am furious to have missed it. So angry I actually spent a sleepless hour fulminating at the BBC's highlights coverage, which showed us only about 10 minutes of fantastic opening ceremony, 10 minutes of crap speeches and boring processions of athletes, 20 minutes of footage on the British Olympic hopefuls (as if...) and a whole load of Sue Barker and other uninspiring presenters filling the rest of the time.

What makes me angrier, is that I could have watched it live, but chose not to, and also elected not to Sky+ it either, assuming that the highlights coverage wouldn't cut out any of the best bits. I am a BBC stalwart - I would happily pay double for the licence fee so I never thought I would say this, but... The BBC are Bastards.

Anyway, my blubcount is rising. I cried at the Olympics twice on the first day, once on day 2 and twice already on day 3 (a Russian and a Georgian hug on the podium - oh the poignancy). I am so soft it's humiliating.

Total Olympics blubdown

So I'm on the sofa feeding the bub and I flick the TV on to catch the Olympics opening ceremony, and I've only been watching for about 2 minutes and it's the usual crap, with some cute little girl on a wire doing some weird cycling movement with her legs, and some dude on a piano who is probably rather good, and a dove made out of humans and Huw Edwards wittering on and on and on and I start crying Goddammit. What is it with me and the Olympics? All that sentimental pap? Why does it always make me blub like the world is coming to an end?