Update and a name and shame

First for the name and shame. Shame on you:

BABYPARK

Surely the crappiest chain of baby stores in the entire world. And no, don't bother trying to view the website because it is Sunday. The website is closed on a Sunday.

Last summer we tried to purchase a Micralite buggy from them, only to be given the runaround by their customer services staff on multiple occasions. The Micralite sales office told us that they had made a deal with Babypark and that Babypark would be stocking the travel system within the month. On every occasion that we rang customer services they gave us a different answer on when, or if, the Micralite would be stocked in their stores. In the end we gave up and bought a Quinny Speedi SX.

We did go to their Gouda store on a couple of occasions to look at their selection and the staff walked around looking baffled and their pancake restaurant had no-one serving in it.

We are clearly very stupid people (although not as stupid as them) because we called them today to inquire whether they stock any of the Graco buggies. On the first occasion, the woman who answered the phone hung up on me. On the second occasion, Phil was told that he should call back on Thursday when someone would be in who would know if any Graco buggies were in store. Erm... why don't you... ya know... walk over to the pram, travel system and buggy section and... use your eyes... no? Too complex?? OK, then.

Aaah... isn't the Internet a wonderful thing? I feel so much better now!

OK... now for the update. We went along to Prénatal today and spent a pleasant couple of hours buying Michael a buggy and a car seat in the next size up. He has almost outgrown his current car seat because he has such broad shoulders (as I remember quite vividly as the reason for my episiotomy). However, we are going to keep him in it for as long as possible because a rear-facing car seat is so much safer for his immature neck muscles. When he finally outgrows it, he can move into his new Maxi Cosi Tobi.

We need a buggy for when we fly home to visit family. A buggy can be used in the airport and stored in the cabin on the plane. It is also necessary for when I use public transport and don't want to use the baby carrier. Our Quinny is great but at almost 12 kilos it is too heavy to lug around on a bus. We bought a Graco Mirage Plus. We had great fun pulling it to pieces in the store and giving it a thorough test drive.

It has an adult beverage holder. My choice of beverage might say more about me than the buggy or the appearance of myself or my baby. What kind of Mummy am I if there is iced tea in the holder? Beer? Red Bull? I'll have to give this some serious thought ;o)

Prénatal really is a great store. We went to their big store outside Amsterdam and they have recently revamped the first floor. They now have a large baby changing area, breastfeeding chair with screen, and unisex toilets so Phil doesn't have to face walking into the ladies' toilets in order to change Michael's nappy. They are as good as Babypark is bad.

Now for an update on Michael. Since he cut his second tooth he has been a very sunny baby indeed. He is doing some backwards shuffling when we put him on the floor now. You couldn't call it crawling yet but he is certainly moving in the right direction (albeit bum first). He's had some trouble adjusting to the size of his cot. He has a lot more space than he is used to and has been waking himself up at the end of each sleep cycle. He has been rolling over onto his stomach too, and last night he managed to wedge his arm through the cot bars at the shoulder. I had to go and rescue him because I could tell by his cry that something unusual had gone wrong. I've positioned him with some care tonight in the hope that he will roll over in the same direction as in previous nights and have the space not to squash a limb. Phew... that was a long sentence. My old grammar school English teacher would not be impressed.

Michael hosted a webcast this evening and had the pleasure of hearing my mum and dad chatter to him (my sister has done something to their webcam configuration so he couldn't see them). My parents remarked that he looks like a little boy now and not a baby. I guess he does. I'm dressing him in little boy clothes now rather than sleepsuits. His hair is still very red and I'm expect that at six months old, that isn't going to change any time soon.

To end this epic entry on a slightly gushing note - we are constantly amazed and enthralled by what a fascinating character Michael is. We can't imagine our lives without him and are incredibly proud to be his parents.

Need a carbolic sheet or something

Michael doesn't know it yet but he really wants a Wheely Bug for his first birthday - oh yes he does!

He had a really bad night last night. He slept for about 3 hours and from then on kept waking, crying and going back to sleep every 20 minutes or so. I brought him downstairs to see if he needed a feed but that didn't help and we didn't get him settled until 5am. He developed a dry cough yesterday and has had a stuffy nose for a couple of days so it looks like he still has the virus that made us all unwell. I was advised to take him to the doctor and, fortunately, he needs nothing more than some TLC and the humidifier on in the bedroom. His lungs and ears were clear of infection.

I went along to the doctor's surgery alone with Michael in the baby carrier. The waiting room was very hot and we had to wait for over half an hour. That was a bit of a stretch of Michael's patience. He just CANNOT be still at the moment. He wriggles from morning until night. He also has this habit of zoning in on someone and staring, unblinking, at them until he has formed an opinion of them. He did this the last time we went to the surgery and the end result was that the poor target of his attention did not meet with his approval. He pouted at her and started to cry. How harsh to be found wanting by a 5 month old baby! On this occasion, he happily stared at a young woman and must have really disliked her because he let out an embarrassingly audible and noxious - how can I put this delicately? - bottom burp. I didn't help matters by not being able to conceal my amusement.

In the past I have witnessed many a mother staring adoringly at her progeny whilst the little angel theatrically filled their nappy in some public place. Please spare me from this kind of pride - I'll stick with the humour.

Cycling

I was really looking forward to taking Michael out on the bike this spring when he reaches nine months old. My baby clinic "Growth Book" states that cycling before nine months is a no-no. I started looking online for a helmet for him and came across a number of sites advising that babies should not be on a bike until they are at least one year old. Gutting! There are multiple problems with it, one being that the neck muscles are insufficient to support the weight of a helmet and even on Dutch ultra-safe cycle paths I wouldn't risk cycling anywhere with him not wearing a helmet. So... no cycling to Lisse to see the tulip fields until next year :'-(

Squished baby

I was woken in the early hours of this morning by Michael's cries. He frequently cries in his sleep and is peaceful again a second later, but this cry was different. It was more of a squeal. I got up to find that he had turned himself sideways in his cot and wedged his head against the bars. I had a feeling that he was going to end up in weird and wonderful positions with all the space of his cot. I turned the indignant chap back around and stroked his head for a few minutes. Luckily for me he went straight back to sleep. I really hope this isn't going to be a nightly thing. If so, my night will go something like this:

02:00: Phil and I creep into bed, endeavouring not to wake Michael with our giggling.
02:05: The cats recognise that we are now upstairs and start howling and scratching at the door.
02:06: Phil squirts the cats with the water pistol to get them to desist.
02:10: Phil falls asleep and starts snoring like a lawnmower.
03:00: I finally fall asleep.
04:00: The cats decide to push their luck one more time and start howling and scratching.
05:00: Michael gets wedged in his cot.
10:00: Phil's alarm wakes me and I wake him and eventually communicate to his sleep-addled brain that he has to turn the alarm off AND get up for work.
10:01: Michael wakes up wondering what is going on.

I think I might be spending too much money on baby clothes. I have spent quite a lot this month because I wanted to get a good amount of clothes in the next few sizes in the sales. I've got clothes up to 18 months to 2 years (considering he is in size 9-12 months now, he could be wearing these clothes sooner rather than later). I went into town yesterday to get something from the housewares store and also wandered into Hema and bought Michael a pair of shoes. He outgrew his last pair and needs a pair to keep his feet warm when he is in his baby carrier. They only cost 7 euro and I was pleased with my purchase.

When Phil got home I told him what I had bought and he got a look on his face that wouldn't have been out of place on a man who was about to be offered a final cigarette and a blindfold. He tremulously asked me if the shoes were all I had purchased. On discovering that this was the case he visibly relaxed. Poor guy.

Today I have broken one of the rules that I made when I was pregnant. That rule being:

Never let Winnie the Pooh merchandise anywhere near my baby

So... No Winnie the Pooh wallpaper, lighting, bed clothes, toys or baby clothes. I'm ashamed to say that I weakened when confronted by an exceptionally cute pair of dungarees that I found in H&M. Michael is wearing them now and thrashing around in his playnest (really have no idea where he gets his energy and athleticism from - Phil and I are total couch potatoes).

I miss my baby

Michael has slept in a crib next to our bed since he was born. He is now too large for it so, since last night, is sleeping in a cot at the bottom of our bed. He is only a couple of meters away from me and yet I miss him. When he woke in the morning he would chatter to himself for a little while and then a questing hand would appear over the side of the crib. I would reach out my hand for him to grab hold of and then he'd smile up at me. I miss my boy :o(

Welcome to the year of the pig

Michael has started settling himself to sleep. He has done it for the past three nights. I give him his last feed, clean his teeth (plural!) and cuddle with him on my knee for ten minutes and then take him up to bed. I sit with him for a minute to say goodnight and then go downstairs. He puts his thumb in his mouth and settles himself to sleep without a single tear - magic!! I have never been willing to leave him to cry for any length of time so I didn't anticipate him doing this for months. I have always carried him upstairs to bed when he is already asleep.

We took Michael up to Amsterdam this afternoon to see the Chinese New Year celebrations. They were a bit of an anticlimax, in all honesty. We missed the fireworks and didn't see a single lion dance. There were some Kung Fu demonstrations in a marquee but it was too crowded for us to even see what was going on from the doorway. We did get to go inside the Buddhist temple and were immediately assailed by the heady aroma of incense. Michael had been very quiet up until that point and suddenly started jabbering away. Wonder what was in the incense?!?

To get to Chinatown, we had to go through the Red Light District. It was the middle of the day but I was a little uncomfortable taking Michael through there until I saw some other tourists walking with their babies. I guess all Michael would think if he looked through a luridly-lit window would be "Hmmm... lunch?" A virtual paradise for the breastfed baby. If I had been feeling particularly naughty I would have asked Phil to take a photo of us outside one of the live sex shows. I could then show it to our relatives to enjoy their squeaks of indignation.

Caption competition

Virtual chocolate for the best caption to go with this photo!

Second tooth

Michael's second tooth came through today.

Finally he confesses

Phil was sitting at his computer with Michael on his knee and suddenly announced to the room at large "Daddy's got a monobrow". Finally he confesses! :oD When challenged about this statement he first said that it was a hypothetical statement. Secondly, he said he chose the words for their lyrical content. Thirdly, he said that I was picking on him.

I would just like to say... tee and hee.

Sleep success

For the first time EVER we got Michael to sleep before midnight! He has been going to bed for the night at 3am for some months now. We were fully aware that it couldn't continue but have had difficulty moving the schedule back due to his teething and strong urge to be a night owl. He went to sleep at 23:50 and that is major progress for us. It still needs to come back to about 10pm but at least we're moving in the right direction.

Michael was Mama's little helper this afternoon. We went shopping and I didn't have enough room in the Quinny basket for all my purchases. I ended up balancing a large box of cornflakes on his cosytoes. He was kind enough to keep hold of it all the way home with one pudgy little hand so that it didn't fall onto the pavement. What a considerate boy :o)

He launched himself out of his playnest twice yesterday in the space of 5 minutes so we know that his days of immobility are drawing to a close. We've been frantically baby-proofing the house. We had to do quite a bit of baby-proofing some years ago because Harry likes to chew anything and everything. I had a bit of a rant about this in my blog - posted here if anyone is interested.

I think that is about it for baby news. I'm off to scoff some of the lovely chocs that Phil bought me for Valentine's Day and read some more of Jingo (Terry Pratchett).

6 months old today!

Here are a few of my favourite photos of Michael taken in the last few days.

On any occasion, if things stop going Michael's way (like he is tired and we have the impertinence to wash his face or change his nappy) then he'll throw one hand over his eyes and put his thumb in his mouth. Very, very cute. He gets it from Phil because I wasn't a thumb sucker. I had a comfort blanket (and YES, Mum and Dad, I STILL BLAME YOU FOR TAKING IT AWAY).

Michael watching "Bubble and Squeak". We watch Nick Jr. together for an hour in the afternoon. He really loves this show but I can't stand it. I much prefer "Peppa Pig" and "The Wiggles".

Oh no... now I have the "Peppa Pig" theme tune stuck in my head... again...

I took this photo last Thursday when we were out walking in the snow. About 2 hours after it was taken he spiked a temperature of 39.1. You'd never know he was sick to look at him here.

All smiles again

Michael was absolutely fine today with no fever or other signs of illness so I have no idea what was wrong with him yesterday. I read that antibodies are passed from mother to baby in breast milk so maybe he just had a really watered down version of the illness I have had.

He gave me a hell of a fright this morning. I went in to the bedroom when I heard cries and he had managed to pull the canopy cloth over his face. AAAAAAAARGH! He could breathe fine but I freaked out and removed the canopy altogether. I forget what a strong little boy he is. Now the problem is sneaking into the bedroom at night without him waking and seeing us. Before, the canopy blocked us from his view. How we love a new challenge(!)

It's oh so quiet

Finally we got Michael to bed an hour ago. Once the medication wore off, his temperature didn't rise above 38 which was a mercy. He's dosed up again and tucked up in his grobag. I was a bit worried because I didn't know what I should dress him in for bed. He normally sleeps in a long-sleeved bodysuit and a 2.5 tog grobag because our bedroom is 20°C at night (even in the dead of winter when it has been snowing all day... want to hazard a guess at the temperature in summer??) I was concerned that this would be too much clothing, but I am assuming it will be ok because the medication has dealt with the fever.

Poor little guy. Mummy and Daddy hope you feel better soon, little petal.

My home is alive... with the sound of Gleghorns

Well... I was going to post a ranting entry about the various members of my household keeping me awake at night but since Michael and Phil are sick, the wind has been taken out of my sails somewhat. Phil has hurt his back (thinks he slept in a dodgy position) and Michael has a fever. It was 39.1 but with paracetamol, and stripping him down to his vest and nappy I have reduced it to 37.4.

I have been sick with a sinus infection since last Friday and am only now starting to feel better. I was under the impression that it sprang from an allergic reaction but since Michael now has a fever, I think it must have been a virus. It is odd that he would show symptoms six days after I became unwell. Odd too that he has no symptoms other than extremely red cheeks. I am wondering if it has something to do with the teething, but I suspect that the fever is too high to be related.

So... on my my slightly deflated rant. My husband SNORES. I am a very light sleeper so in our first year of living together we negotiated an arrangement so that Phil wouldn't wake in the morning to find a hatchet in his back. The deal was that Phil would stay awake until I fell asleep. The snoring, on the whole, prevents me from getting to sleep rather than wakes me up. This arrangement worked fine until the arrival of Michael. We are now so tired that Phil falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. So on one side I have a snoring Phil and on the other I have... Michael. Michael is also an extremely noisy sleeper. He also snores on occasion, he leg slams, he cries in his sleep and sucks his thumb with a noisy little 'pop pop pop' sound. I swear it is like sleeping in an orchestra pit sometimes. In addition to this cacophony, there is the dulcet tones of Harry, one of our Burmese cats, howling, scratching and launching himself at the door to the room he sleeps in.

I have some vague concerns that Phil's bad back is due to him bending into an odd shape in a last-ditch attempt to find a position that he wouldn't snore in. I would feel guilty but... sleep deprived mad woman and all that ;o)

The conclusion of the lump saga

We have just returned from Michael's hospital appointment. It took 1.5 hours for 2 people to determine that he has... a lipoma or a cyst. Initially we saw a trainee who wasn't allowed to read the doctor's referral letter (I had read it so told him what it said) and wasn't allowed to give us a diagnosis. He asked a lot of questions and prodded and poked Michael. He seemed bemused that Michael wouldn't open his mouth for him, and somewhat alarmed when I cautioned him that putting a finger in his mouth was entirely at his own risk. We were then left to our own devices for half an hour or so before the trainee reappeared with the head of department. She performed pretty much the same checks but by this point Michael was really in need of a nap and was heading towards meltdown at alarming speed. Lipomas can come in clusters and even in organs which was the reason for the very thorough checks.

It appears that Michael has only the one lump and it is harmless as far as the doctors can tell. It does not interfere with his eye or cause him any pain. It will probably not grow but we are going back to the hospital to check that in 3 months. They would not be able to determine for certain whether it is a cyst or lipoma without invasive tests. That is too much for a little baby and does not appear to be necessary.

So... that is the end of that... hopefully. Amusingly, when we first arrived, the trainee thought (because he had not been allowed to read the referral letter) that we were there to discuss the fact that Michael is so large for his age. If he knew just how large the men in both our families are then he wouldn't be at all surprised at the size of Michael. My uncle is a good 2 inches taller than Phil and Phil isn't exactly tiny at 6' 3".

Ready and willing on December 24th...

Let's face it - if Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen and Rudolph were the size of Michael then Santa's sleigh would never get off the ground on Christmas Eve...

Parental responsibility

As a parent I am constantly striving to be responsible and avoid compromising Michael's dignity. That is why I valiantly fought the urge to take a photo of Michael with a coffee filter on his head.

Latest stats

Michael had his latest appointment at the baby clinic yesterday and here are his 5½ month stats:

Age: 5 months, 2 weeks and 4 days old
Weight: 8.770 kg (19.3 pounds)
Length: 69 cm
Head circumference: 43 cm
Current temperament: Quietly alert and chatty
Current location: Sitting in his Maxi Cosi

We are expecting his second tooth to make an appearance in the next few days because he has been very unsettled; chewing everything in sight; coughing and dribbling like a leaky tap. Apparently the nipple biting is also to do with the teething and not just that he hates me and wants to punish me for something. We took him out to Schiphol this evening. He is always lulled to sleep by the car and the general bustle of the airport and Phil and I can enjoy ourselves with a cocktail at the juice bar. Not a drop of alcohol in them, but fabulous nonetheless.

Michael said "Mama" twice today. It wasn't in any particular context but since I have been trying to get him to say it for ages, I am very pleased. My genius child :o)

I'm not sure if I mentioned the fabulous playnest we bought for him a while back. It allows him to sit up whilst supported and play. Much better than him getting frustrated on his back. Sadly, he is now starting to try to climb out of it so I don't think it will be long before we have to put the baby gates up and find a way to protect the DVD player drawer from little jam-coated fingers. How time flies!

The Wiggles

Michael and I just caught The Wiggles on TV. How cool is that show?!?

Battered by baby

My baby is beating me up. They don't mention this problem in any of the baby books I have. His little tooth has left it's mark on several fingers and both nipples today (so far). He loves to explore my face with his hands and unfortunately this leads to my hair being pulled and me being somewhat tenderised.

I think it would be unsporting for me to report him to the domestic violence unit of the police department because he is a bit young to do bird.

The return of the fatty lump

We took Michael back to the doctor today so that he could examine the lump under Michael's left eyebrow. We were pleased to learn that it has not grown at all but Michael has, nonetheless, been referred to the clinic at the hospital for further testing. The doctor said that it's proximity to the eye was his motivation for the referral. I took a sneaky peak at the referral letter and his belief is that it is either a lipoma, a cyst or an exostosis. I certainly hope that it isn't an exostosis. It's location makes that an improbability.

In other news, we are still waiting for Michael's second tooth to make an appearance. He has been grizzling all week, with the exception of yesterday. Despite the pain and the temper it has put him in, he has been progressing very well. So far this week he has:

• Started blowing raspberries
• Sat unsupported for a few minutes
• Cut his first tooth
• Found his feet

With the last achievement came the sad realisation that he was never going to get his foot in his mouth. His torso is simply too long. He can get his big toe to touch his lips but that is all. Poor little guy.

Indecision

Why is there never any consensus where baby issues are concerned? After Michael's first tooth came through I realised I would have to clean it with something - but what? There seem to be four schools of thought:

1. Clean with wet gauze after every feeding
2. Clean with wet gauze after every feeding and clean with toothpaste once a day
3. Clean with toothpaste that does not contain fluoride once a day
4. Clean with toothpaste that does contain fluoride once a day

What the hell?!? Some dentists say that toothpaste is bad for children under two; some say that breastfed babies are more at risk of cavities; some say that fluoride is dangerous for babies; some say that fluoride supplements are necessary in certain situations. We've gone for a less severe version of option 2 (toothpaste and cleaning several times a day with gauze - not after every feeding).

I have always been guilty of over-thinking things but good grief - the supposed baby experts don't make it very easy for me.

Speaking of guilt - I discovered today that I should have been supplementing Michael with vitamin D since birth. This is because breast milk only contains low amounts of vitamin D - the baby gets the balance of what they need from sunlight. Given that Michael's routine is exceptionally nocturnal, and that in The Netherlands he isn't going to get enough direct sunlight in winter, a supplement is necessary. I immediately convinced myself that he was going to get rickets due to my ignorance (I haven't had much sleep lately...) and Phil and the baby clinic had to convince me that it would be fine.

Still not 100% convinced... ask me again after I get a decent sleep...

Progress

Michael did not seem to be in any pain at all today and went to sleep tonight without painkillers. We have been having some trouble settling him at night because his body clock is telling him to go to sleep for the night at about 3am and wake for the day at 1pm. I have been trying to shift the routine to earlier in the day but my efforts have been hampered by the teething.

I had a crisis of confidence tonight that I shouldn't be nursing him to sleep. Most of the books that I have regard nursing to sleep as a big mistake that will lead to a child who is overly dependent on the breast and cannot self-settle. I have nursed Michael to sleep since he was born. I decided to search on the internet for methods to teach him to self-settle only to find the two online resources that I trust above others (Dr. Sears and kellymom) affirm that nursing to sleep is not only perfectly natural but also preferable to many other methods (albeit tiring for the parents). The suggestion is that self-settling is a developmental milestone that will come in time. Well I wish I had read this before then I wouldn't have felt so guilty the whole time!

Baby-induced hysteria

Picture, if you will, two otherwise intelligent, educated and rational people huddled at the foot of the stairs and giggling like schoolgirls in an anatomy class. Baby-induced insomnia can lead to one of two things - a short fuse or a fit of the giggles. I don't think I have giggled like this since I was a teenager. Anything can spark it off and it is most likely to happen when we need to be quiet because Michael is sleeping. Last night we were both snorting and snickering for a good ten minutes before we composed ourselves enough to go up to bed. Having a baby is undoubtedly one of the hardest things we will ever do and I am tremendously grateful that we can see the humour in it (most of the time).

Oh... and don't bother to ask me why I'm still awake at 4am...

TOOTH!!!!!!!

Finally the tooth has come through!!! WOO HOO!!!!!!
Can I sleep now? Pretty please???

Baby-induced insomnia

Well... here I am again... awake at 5am. After my last post Michael finally went to sleep and last night we had to medicate him again. I'm not willing to automatically assume that the teething is going to interfere with his sleep so I get him ready for bed as normal and put him down to sleep to see how he copes. If he doesn't, then it drags the bedtime out but at least I'm not needlessly medicating him. Tonight was particularly bad and he is, again, dosed up on paracetamol and asleep. I really, really do not want to give him paracetamol on a regular basis so I sincerely hope that this tooth shows up soon.

The downside to dealing with Michael's sleep problem is that Phil and I end up wide awake and slightly on edge at ridiculous hours of the night. Now, the sensible thing to do would be to wind down with a hot, milky drink and some soothing classical music on the radio, but we aren't sensible people. So I'm chatting on Instant Messenger and blogging my woes. Phil is - pause whilst I ask him - browsing, blogging and resisting the urge to stuff himself full of food.

Speaking (or more accurately, writing) of urges, I've got the urge to rewrite Dracula in the style of Terry Pratchett so if I am still awake in an hour or so I may start on that...

Go to sleep!

It is almost 5am and I've been up and down the stairs to Michael like a jack-in-the-box for the past 2 hours. He just keeps waking up crying. This really isn't like him - he has gone down to sleep easily for 11 hours a night for the past 2 months. Phil took a turn trying to soothe him... no luck. We checked the usual things - he is well fed; no leaks; good temperature; no wind. Then we looked in his mouth and can see a red line across the little lump where his tooth will come through. The baby clinic advised us to give him some paracetamol if the teething interrupted his sleep and that is what we have done. I know we probably shouldn't play with him but we're trying to relax him now so that the paracetamol can take effect.

I feel so very sorry for him, but I feel sorry for Phil and I too. Phil always wants to do his share, even though he works full-time and he is going to be exhausted today if we can't get some sleep soon.

Fingers crossed...

5 months old!

5 months old! Where does the time go?!? I love this photo - it is of Michael having a very earnest conversation with Dweezil.

Baldy baby

Phil and I are rather gutted to discover that Michael is losing his hair around the sides. He has a thick mop of hair on top but it has never really grown round the sides (beyond what he was born with). Now it is falling out. I discovered this when I had a peek in his moses basket. Little red hairs everywhere - so sad.

We had some fun and games with him at the weekend because of him teething. He was whinging and grizzling all day Saturday and even held his breath at one point. When this tooth eventually parts company with his body, either exchanged with the tooth fairy for money or knocked out when he falls on his nose chasing a butterfly, I am going to remember these past weeks and I am going to jump up and down on it! Never mind keeping it for eternity in a little porcelain pot - I want REVENGE!

He is now in 9-12 month sleepsuits and I don't dare speculate how long they will fit him for. I may as well just empty my purse into the mothercare till once a month. I was rather alarmed to learn that at 8.5kg, he is actually larger than our colleague's baby - that baby being 4 months older than Michael. As an August baby, he is going to be one of the youngest in his school year but I somehow doubt that he is going to be the smallest. Just as long as I don't catch him giving children a couple of years older than him a swirlie...

Do recruiters have souls?

Possibly an odd title for a baby blog entry but today the worlds of a recruiter, baby Michael, and a set of weighing scales collided, leaving me pondering this question. This afternoon, Michael was being weighed and toppled off the scales. Fortunately he was completely unhurt, although a little distressed and perturbed (paranoid Mummy took him along to the doctor just to check him out). At the moment this happened, Phil was called by a recruiter. The recruiter would have heard something like this...

THUD
Michael: WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
Phil: SH*T!
Catherine (note of rising panic): What happened? MICHAEL?!?

Phil immediately hung up the phone. I ran to pick up Michael to soothe him, and the recruiter rang back. Phil shouted down the phone "NOW IS NOT A GOOD TIME!" and hung up again. Whilst we were on the way to the doctor's office, the recruiter rang for a third time and Phil let the call go through to voicemail. The recruiter left the following message:

Philip, hi, it's **** **** from ****. I'm not too sure what happened there
but the... er... phone went dead twice so I just thought I'd try you again...
erm... If you could please give me a call back... erm... I do have a specific
opportunity that I would like to discuss with you.

Eh? The phone went dead? Phil essentially told him to b*gger off and he somehow missed that?!? Since he will undoubtedly call back, I am tempted to answer the phone just to determine if he does have a soul. I imagine the conversation would go something like this:

Recruiter: Hi, this is **** **** from ****. Can I speak to Philip, please?
Me: I'm afraid that he spontaneously combusted whilst on the phone to you, yesterday. All I have left to bury is his left testicle and slightly smoking socks.
Recruiter (slightly subdued): Erm... I'm sorry to hear that...
Recruiter (brightening slightly): If you know of anyone... erm... who would be interested in a system administration position then please don't hesitate to pass on my details.
Me: I'll do that... yeah...

SHUT UP

Every bl**dy year it is the same. The local kids grab a selection of their parents' fireworks and roam the streets from sunrise to sunset letting them off. It turns the cats (indoor cats, but with excellent hearing) into gibbering wrecks and this year it is ruining the sleep of my son.

Little b*stards.



I'm not normally a violent person but right now I would really like a shotgun.

Help me, I'm stuck!

I've discovered the fly in the ointment with Michael's new trick of rolling over... he gets stuck. It goes like this:

1. I put Michael onto his back in his playpen or under his activity arch
2. Michael rolls over in seconds and in that moment is extremely pleased with himself
3. Michael looks around with interest
4. Michael gets fed up of squashing his dinner and wails to be turned back over
5. I turn him onto his back
6. Repeat to fade

He used to be able to play happily on his back for at least half an hour and until he masters the skill of rolling over and back again, playtime is going to be a very exhausting experience for both Mummy and Baby.

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas to all!

I've finally found the time to write an entry now that Phil's mum, Linda, has returned to England. She came out on Saturday to spend Christmas with us. Michael was exceptionally well-behaved on the day that she arrived and sat peacefully in her arms for quite some time. Unfortunately his teeth started to cause him some upset late in the evening and he was *very* grumpy through Christmas Day and Boxing Day. He wasn't really smiling or making eye contact - he was just dribbling a lot and shoving anything within reach into his mouth.

His bad mood didn't stop him from reaching a new milestone, though. He is now rolling over from his back to his front. Michael is a very nosy baby and doesn't like to spend much time lying down. He prefers to be carried around so that he can have a babble at the bookcases and supervise whatever is going on in the house. He has never wanted to spend any time on his front so I haven't pushed it. I put him down on his back under his activity arch on Christmas Day and before I knew it, he had rolled onto his front and looked for all the world like he was going to crawl off (note to self - buy baby gates!) It was lovely that Linda was here to see it.

Here is a photo of Michael in the outfit I chose for him for Christmas Day. It was supposed to be a Christmas pudding outfit but I abandoned that idea for two reasons. Firstly, it would have been a bit of a squash because he is so long in the body. Secondly, I decided to leave him his dignity (for now!)













Michael is still exclusively breastfed, but we decided to sit him up in his new highchair during Christmas dinner. He quickly caught on with the new toy in front of him. It is a spinning toy with all kinds of whistles and bells to capture his imagination. All he has to do is bash it to make it spin. No problem for Destructo Boy ;o) He has, what we call, his bashing arm. He loves to pump his right arm up and down with quite some force and scatter anything in reach. I'm amazed he hasn't left any bruises! He bashed himself in the eye the other day and is now using his bashing arm a bit more gingerly.




I love this photo. Sadly, it is a bit grainy because of the low light in the living room, but I managed to capture three generations of Gleghorns in the one place and all looking at the camera.










Michael decided to investigate Phil's beer. He doesn't get to sample the contents for a good few years yet! It will probably be round the back of the school bike sheds in 15 years time, drinking something like Merrydown cider...














I suspect that Michael may have decided to start rolling over so that he can watch television... Thus begins a lifetime of being a telly addict.

New blog

I have created a new blog where I can post on topics that are not baby-related. You can find the blog at:
http://cjfogg.blogspot.com

I decided this was necessary after the post on Sir Jimmy Savile that I somehow shoe-horned into Michael's blog.

Tis the season to go ping

Our old Toyota Corolla, named Myrtle, has a fabulous sense of timing. Phil's mum is coming to stay on Saturday and we need to do quite a bit of last minute shopping, so Myrtle has picked this as the perfect time to fall to pieces. She is quite an old car and something big usually breaks during the winter but this year she is heading for the scrap yard.

Phil was on his way home from work in the dark yesterday when the drive belt went as he was going round a roundabout. There were ditches on either side of the road and I'm amazed that he didn't end up in one of them. What if we had been on the motorway doing 120km/h when it had happened?? It doesn't bear thinking about. Myrtle doesn't have tinted windows or air conditioning so is an absolute punishment to drive anywhere in during the summer. So... her time has come. Bye bye Myrtle. This little episode did bring forth some very welcome acts of kindness. Several people helped Phil push the car onto the verge and a lovely gentleman in one of the nearby businesses crossed two roads and a roundabout to bring Phil a cup of coffee while he waited for the breakdown service to arrive. Phil had had to go into this gentleman's shop to ask to use a phone because he had left his mobile at home. He never forgets his mobile so this is another example of Myrtle's fabulous sense of timing.

The garage that the car was towed to is going to examine Myrtle today. There is a good chance that when the drive belt broke, some components in the engine were damaged so we will probably have to get a rental car for the Christmas period.

In baby-related news, Phil got a small taste of what breastfeeding is like yesterday. Michael decided to have an evening where he did little but feed and I briefly passed him over to Phil whilst I did a couple of chores. Quick as you like, Michael latched onto Phil's nose and started sucking furiously. Phil thought it was funny initially but his nose quickly began to suffer from Michael's over-enthusiasm for the task. Matters weren't helped by Michael blowing dribble up Phil's nostrils at the same time. I couldn't locate the camera fast enough to take a picture so this amusing event will have to live only in my memory. Phil tells me that his nose is still sore this morning. Tee hee ;o)

Meme

If you are reading this, ask me four questions -- any four, no matter how personal, private, or absurd. I will try to answer them honestly, or if I can't be honest, I'll try to be funny. In turn, you have to post this message in your own journal and you have to answer the questions that are asked of you.

4 months old

Michael is 4 months old tomorrow so here are his updated statistics:


Age: 3 months, 4 weeks and 1 day old
Weight: 7.635 kg (16.8 pounds)
Length: 66 cm
Head circumference: 41.5 cm
Current temperament: Quietly alert
Current location: Sitting on his Daddy's knee watching Emmerdale.

He had his third set of vaccinations today and, again, got very mad when the nurse jabbed him with the needle. She said "Does he always go that red in the face?". I replied "Only when people are pissing him off..." He has a high pain threshold (like his father) and a low tolerance for being messed around (like his mother). The minute I picked him up after the vaccinations he stopped crying. If only all problems could be solved that easily.

We also had an unexpected trip to see the doctor this afternoon. The nurse at the baby clinic had noticed a lump under the skin above his left eye. It is under his eyebrow and only really noticeable when he cries. The clinic thought that it was simply a fatty lump and nothing to worry about, but we needed to get it checked out with our doctor. The doctor also agreed that it is a fatty lump (proper name is a lipoma). She took the measurements and we have to return in a couple of weeks to determine whether it has grown. There is the possibility that it will stay with him permanently and also that it will grow as he does, but nothing is certain at this point. If it grows then it could disrupt the sight in his eye which is why the doctor needs to keep an eye (no pun intended) on it.

So... my little fat lump has a little fatty lump. I have been affectionately calling him Fester Addams because he has a little head wobbling around on such big shoulders but I think I might call him Lumpy Addams from now on.

Breastfeeding

Since breast milk is Michael's only source of food right now, I think it deserves a mention. Michael and I are now at the stage where breastfeeding is a pleasant experience for both of us - it certainly wasn't the case in the beginning. I had an overabundant milk supply and a fast letdown and poor Michael would practically drown in milk when latching on. Couple this with a greedy little baby who sucks furiously and wants everything RIGHT NOW and there was quite a challenge. As Michael grew, he was more able to cope with the flow and the constant windmill arms and popping on and off the breast finally stopped. I have been very fortunate to have excellent support in the shape of the Borstvoedingscentrum Amsterdam. They have been able to counteract the sometimes misguided advice of the baby clinic (who are constantly trying to get me to feed on a schedule rather than feed on demand - my baby is hungry when he decides he is and not when the clock does).

I am surprised at how my opinion of extended breastfeeding has changed. Before breastfeeding I thought, like most people around me it seems, that extended breastfeeding was abnormal. Now I look at Michael and think - how can it be perfectly acceptable to breastfeed you at 6 months but verging on disgusting to offer you the breast at 18 months?!? The downside to breastfeeding is that I spend altogether too much time on the sofa watching daytime TV. A lady who breastfed her daughter for 7 years featured on a talk show this morning. By this I mean that the child was, of course, eating solid food but occasionally having breast milk in the evenings or for comfort. The lady was exceptionally eloquent but got some pretty horrible remarks such as "disgusting" and "you are only doing this so you will have large breasts, aren't you?". Western society has sexualised breasts to the extent that breastfeeding past the age of 1 now has to be done behind closed doors.

I intend to wean Michael gradually and stop breastfeeding him when he outgrows the need - not when society tells me to.

Filing for bankruptcy

What's that you say, Michael? You've outgrown your 3-6 month clothes? And you want me to go out and buy you a new and expensive 6-9 month wardrobe?

But Michael... you are only 3 months, 3 weeks and 2 days old... Child, you will bankrupt me!!

Fatty from the block

FATTY FROM THE BLOCK

Unsurprisingly, to be sung to the tune of "Jenny from the Block" by Jennifer Lopez

Don't be fooled by the hips that I got
I'm still, I'm still Fatty from the block
Used to weigh a little now I weigh a lot
No matter where I go I know where the boob is

Ode to Michael - 16 pounds (7.2 kg) and counting...

The fungal club

Well, Michael and I are both fully paid-up members of the fungal club. We went to see the doctor this afternoon and now have to be treated for thrush for the next two weeks. Michael voiced his displeasure by howling through the whole appointment. I have to paint the inside of his mouth 4 times a day with a gel. I did this for the first time this evening and it was a truly horrible experience. It is a reasonably large amount of gel (2.5 ml) for such a little mouth and I had to rub it on the inside of his cheeks and on his tongue in sufficiently small amounts to avoid choking him. He turned puce, tried to spit it out and was extremely unhappy. 5 minutes later he threw up over himself so I have to hope that enough of it stayed in his mouth to do the trick. It will probably do horrible things to his sleepsuit knowing my luck and in an hour or two he will look like he has been attacked by termites.

I think this all started when I had a nipple injury a few weeks ago. Michael was having a growth spurt and got a bit lazy with his latch. So we now have the following equation:

Nipple injury + warm, moist environment = thrush

Duly noted...

Oral thrush

*Expletives deleted*
Can any breastfeeding mummies out there give me any information on this?

Give and take

Two things have to happen to improve the world for my son.

1. Bring back mint choc chip ice-cream. Where did it go to? Did it follow the humble prawn cocktail into the ranks of obscurity?
2. For the love of God, get rid of Sir Jimmy Savile. According to Phil, I can't write what I want to write about him because it would be libellous. So I can't write that he is a rancid old lecher (allegedly). Pity. The reason for my rancour is that he is returning to our TV screens with a new series of "Jim'll Fix It". I assure you that his unwillingness to fix it for me as a young child has nothing to do with my current bile.

Put it in my mouth!

We had a rough day yesterday. Michael was fine on the day of his vaccinations but yesterday he just wouldn't settle and got very little sleep until late in the evening. We felt very sorry for him, and a little guilty for taking him along to be vaccinated. We also felt absolutely knackered and I needed someone to rock me and tell me a story by the time we fell into bed. He is doing much better today and has slept for most of the morning. This is fantastic because it gives me some time to do a few things around the house.

I have had to wash Michael's toys because he has finally decided to show some interest in them and wants to put them in his mouth. He has a favourite rabbit called Rab C. Nesbert (or Rab for short - for some reason everything I name ends in 'bert') and last night he desperately tried to shove Rab in his mouth. His face was lit up with excitement and he had gone cross-eyed with concentration. Sadly for him I played the overprotective Mummy card and took Rab away for a good wash. He has been used to entertain Michael for some months and has been left here, there, and everywhere and also dropped on the floor a time or two.

I'm hoping that Michael will sleep for another hour or so because I would really like to play "The Sims". I haven't had the chance to play since Michael was born. Phil and I created virtual representations of us and little Catherine and Phil live in a large house with their adopted son, Knut. Little Catherine and Phil are criminal masterminds. As I recall, I was trying to get little Phil kidnapped and impregnated by aliens when I left the game. No rest for the wicked...

3 months old!

I can't believe that Michael is 3 months old now. Where on earth has the time gone to?!? We took him to the baby clinic this morning for his second lot of vaccinations and for a general check-up. He was a very good boy and only cried a little, but when he did cry there were TEARS! He has never cried with tears before and it broke my heart to see it. Phil and I are already wrapped around his little finger, but if tears are going to be thrown into the mix then we really are in trouble. Before I forget, here are Michael's 3 month stats:


Age: 3 months and 1 day old
Weight: 6.8 kg (15 pounds)
Length: 63.5 cm
Head circumference: 40.5 cm
Current temperament: Peaceful
Current location: Lying in his pram (again)

The above photograph shows him sitting in his Bumbo. It is only in the last couple of weeks that he has had the muscle strength to sit in it without his head flopping a little. He hasn't decided if he likes the Bumbo yet. He is a nosy little chap (like his father) and likes to be on the move all the time, so his preferred location is riding around on Mummy or Daddy's shoulder.

As I mentioned previously, Michael is the star of his own webcast once a week. My parents get to coo over him on Saturday morning. This Saturday, he was very chatty and gave them lots of conversation, smiles and giggles. When he is in a good mood, he chats all the time so it looks like he is going to be a chatterbox like his mother (poor child.) Conversation for him takes up every ounce of his strength. He doesn't just chat with his voice - his arms will be waving around like windmill blades, his eyebrows waggle and expressions chase their way across his face in quick succession. Phil and I love it.

New milestones

Judging by the amount he has been feeding in the last couple of days, Michael is having his 3 month growth spurt. A growth spurt usually heralds some new tricks and we haven't been disappointed. He has started to properly grab at things now. I was leaning over him on the changing station and he grabbed a chunk of my hair in his pudgy little fists - very cute indeed if a little painful. He is also holding his head up properly when placed on his stomach. I have been giving him plenty of tummy time so that he would get strong enough neck muscles to do this. It means that he can go out with me in the Ergo Baby Carrier and can also play in his door bouncer.

In slightly less good news he is obsessively chewing his fists and dribbling a lot so I think he is teething. Very alarming, since the symptoms can persist for several months before the pearly offender shows itself.

Spending

I do not like doing the washing up - in fact I absolutely hate it - and some six years ago I suggested to Phil that we buy a dishwasher. He considered it a waste of money and said that he was more than happy to do the washing up from then on. I took him at his word. How those words would come to haunt him. Occasionally I would feel a twinge of guilt and, warily eyeing the mountain of dirty crockery, I would again suggest a dishwasher and he would insist that he was happy to continue doing the washing up. Three years after my initial suggestion he, and his dishpan hands, finally cracked and we bought a dishwasher. He now worships the dishwasher and I often tease him on his reluctance to buy one.

This little story should give you the idea that Phil and I approach spending money somewhat differently. He likes to save it or avoid spending it. I like to save it too but also spend it on sensible, quality purchases. Fast forward to last weekend and Phil, Michael and I were to be found standing in the unfortunately named "Baby Dump" looking at highchairs. There were about 20 or so highchairs on sale and we immediately dismissed the wooden ones for hygiene reasons and then the ones with cloth seat covers, and finally the ones without wheels. This left us looking at about 6 highchairs. I immediately zoned in on the most aesthetically pleasing one and noticed that it had won multiple awards. It was - alas - the most expensive highchair in the store. Phil liked the look of it too but went slightly green at the price. He wanted to buy something - anything - that was cheaper. It didn't really matter how much cheaper, just cheaper. This led to a somewhat heated exchange in the middle of the highchair section. Michael was resting on my shoulder, blissfully unaware of all this and periodically being sick down my back.

When we finally left the store (I'll leave it to your imagination which highchair we eventually bought) we both agreed very readily what our next purchase would be - two Premium Burger menus from McDonald's.

Overslept?!?

I can't believe it but I overslept this morning. Phil and I fell into bed exhausted at 2:30am and forgot to set the alarm. Michael did what he has only ever done once before in his whole life - he slept for over 7 hours without waking. The next thing I knew, the phone was ringing and it was 9:30am. The doctor's receptionist wanted to know why Michael and I had not come in for Michael's appointment at 9:15am. I was totally flustered, apologised profusely and begged her to give us another appointment. My grovelling paid off and she said that we could see the doctor if we could be at the surgery within 15 minutes. I wouldn't have believed it possible but we managed to get ourselves and Michael dressed and ready within 10 minutes and we actually made it to the surgery in time. Unfortunately, there had been no time to feed Michael before leaving so he was grumbling and my breasts felt like they were going to explode.

The reason for this mad dash was that Michael has had a rash for the last week and has been generally out of sorts for the last few days. The doctor thinks it is either a viral infection or a reaction to the vaccinations he had 3 weeks ago. It is very difficult to tell with little babies, especially because he has no other symptoms like a fever or appetite loss.

My poor little boy. At least we now know why he has been such a grump. He is normally very sunny tempered and can cheerfully entertain himself for over half an hour on his activity gym. It is very cute to watch him grabbing for the toys and babbling at them. He has taken a real shine to a little giraffe and smiles and talks to him for ages. Fingers crossed he will be feeling better very soon because I want to try out my baby carrier and take him into Hoofddorp one lunchtime to see Phil. Phil would love this - especially because Phil has been wanting to go to the children's farm in Hoofddorp for years and Michael will give him just the excuse he needs to go.

General update

Phil and I have had a lot of fun over the last few days. We managed to cook a three-course meal on Saturday and enjoy it by candlelight and as you can see from the photograph to the left, we celebrated Hallowe'en too. I created some spooky fairy cakes, Phil carved a pumpkin and we dressed Michael in a pumpkin outfit. Perhaps one day he will forgive us for this indignity. Unbeknownst to him, there are further indignities to come as I have a Christmas pudding outfit for over the festive season. Mwahaha...

Since this is a diary on the progress of Baby Gleghorn, I had better take a moment to update his statistics:

Name: Michael Alexander Gleghorn
Age: 2 months and 3 weeks old
Weight: 6.5 kg (14.3 pounds)!
Current temperament: Restless
Current location: Lying in his pram

I can't remember what his head circumference and length were when last measured at the baby clinic, but I do remember that he is in the 75th centile.

For my future reference, I am going to note down those purchases I have made that have been useful, and those that have been a complete waste of my time and money. Hopefully I won't make the same mistakes with future children.

Useful:

• Tiny Love Symphony Light & Motion Mobile
• Gymini Super Deluxe - Lights & Music Activity Gym
• Bouncing cradle
• The Dr. Seuss books - especially "Fox in Socks"

Total waste of money

• The Tummy Tub. Michael hated it from the start and was constantly trying (and succeeding) to stand up.
• The Slumber Bear. This bear has a recording of the womb hidden in it's innards. It is supposed to soothe the baby to sleep. It just annoyed the hell out of Michael, although it did send Phil to sleep...
• Any wind-up mobile. Having to constantly wind the bloody thing was enough to drive anyone to drink. Since I am breastfeeding, Phil had to do the drinking on my behalf.
• Nature environmentally friendly nappies. A friend of mine uses these for his son and has had no problems with them whatsoever. However, I was not so lucky. They LEAK. On several occasions, no more than two hours after putting the nappy on Michael, he would have big wet patches on his thighs. This never happens with Huggies or Pampers.

Right... I think that is about it for now. I'm off to change Little Sir's nappy.

Diary of a newborn

Last week, when Michael was 7 weeks old I made a diary of what a typical day for him is like. This is what happened...

9am: Like my parents, I am a night-owl and I woke up this morning at 9am after sleeping for 7 hours! My Mummy was so shocked that she had to check I was still breathing. Normally I sleep for about 5 hours and then wake up wanting my breakfast.






10am: This is how I looked right before I threw up some of my breakfast. I do this to keep Mummy on her toes. She has to stash muslin cloths all over the house because I have a fancy for throwing up in a wonderful new location every day.






11am: As an English baby, it is very important that I learn the finer points of tea-making. Tea will carry me through all of life's tragedies, big or small. Here I am in the kitchen with Daddy having my first lesson.
By the way - how do you like my fabulous stripy grobag? I'll be fighting off the girl-babies in this snazzy attire.







12 noon: Mummy and I went for a walk to the shops. As you can see, I kept nice and dry with the rain cover on my Quinny. Mummy was so busy with me on the way out of the house that she forgot to put her hood up and got soaked. She didn't mind, because I was a very good boy and hardly cried at all during the shopping trip.





2pm: Pretty self-explanatory, really. Here I am having my afternoon nap. I hope that Mummy doesn't show any of these photos to future girlfriends - a sleepsuit with little blue mice on... how embarrassing!









4pm: Further to my tea-making lesson, here I am learning the finer points of aviation from Daddy. If he is very lucky, I may shower him with love and perhaps a little vomit.









5pm: My Mummy loves me.











7pm: I like to have a good ol' sob in the evening. Mummy and Daddy don't know why. I know, but I'm not telling...
The sharp-eyed amongst you will have noticed that I made good on my promise to shower Daddy with vomit.








2am: After a bath, some supper and a story (I love that fox in socks) it is finally bedtime. Night night!

Movies

Phil made a couple of movies of Michael on Sunday with the webcam. They are fabulous becausing he is smiling and cooing in them. You can take a look at them here.

Yuck and ouch

• Explosive bowel movements
• Milk blisters

He does have a sense of humour

Michael has been smiling on and off since he was three weeks old but it has only been in the last couple of days that we have seen big beaming smiles. The first beaming smile was directed at Phil whilst I was changing Michael's nappy. Phil was totally blown away by it and I think Michael could have got away with anything at that moment - Phil was wrapped round his little finger.

We were beginning to wonder if Michael had a sense of humour at all. Phil and I rely on our humour to carry us through the tough times and we, like all parents, I'm sure, hoped that Michael would be a happy baby who would gurgle and coo at us. For the majority of the early weeks he did nothing but eat, sleep, poop and cry. The thought had occurred to me that he might end up a joyless character like Victor Meldrew. Thankfully there was a sunny disposition hiding in there somewhere :o)

Belly cast

On a warm and sunny evening in July, when I was 35 weeks pregnant, Phil and I travelled to Leiden to meet a lady named Annemarie Fetz of Puur Sculptuur.

I decided some time before I got pregnant that when I finally did have a bump to show off, I would immortalise it by having a cast made of it. This is what Annemarie does - pregnant belly casts. I had to strip to the waist, coat my skin in petroleum jelly and perch on a little stool for half an hour whilst she covered my torso in strips of plaster-soaked bandages. I had to be very careful not to move or I would risk cracking the plaster. When the mold was removed we could see exactly where Michael had been lying to the right of my belly button. He had even managed to crack the plaster a little by kicking! Annemarie used this mold to make the cast that you can see to the left.

To say that I am thrilled with it is an understatement. I will always have this to remind me of how I looked when I was pregnant with Michael. I think that the pregnant shape is a beautiful one. We haven't decided yet where we will hang it in the house. There is a nice spot in the living room that isn't too in-your-face but part of me wants to keep it private and hang it in the bedroom. It is a pity that Annemarie doesn't do baby hands and feet casts. We have a do-it-yourself kit for this but we haven't got around to doing it yet. Keeping Michael still for long enough to make the mold will be quite a challenge!

Not the giant slipper!!!

With parenthood comes maturity...

This morning at breakfast time I received unquestionable proof that I have finally grown up. I had purchased a selection of serving-sized cereals and was preparing a bowl of cocoa shreddies. I tipped the cereal into the bowl then added the milk - next comes the sugar - but wait!! Since this cereal has cocoa powder in it, it doesn't really need sugar, does it? For the first time in my life I didn't add sugar to my cereal. I hope that this turn of events doesn't lead to more disturbing decisions and purchases. I am not ready to buy one of those giant slippers that fits both feet in yet!

Michael hosted his first webcast last week. Being an expat has a lot of advantages - experiencing other cultures is very enriching and I now feel far more of a European than a Brit. The main disadvantage is being far from family and childhood friends. My family are feeling this distance particularly acutely since Michael's birth. Realistically, we may not be able to visit each other more than three or four times a year and Michael will be virtually unrecognisable on those visits. The solution is simple - Skype, a microphone and a webcam. Now my parents can see Michael whenever they wish and feel like more a part of his life. They are serious technophobes and rarely feel that computers and the internet are worth the hassle so something like this convinces them that it does have it's uses.

No longer a shut-in

Here they are - my two favourite people in the world. Two peas in a pod :o) Michael has been suffering from some rather nasty tummy cramps lately - hence the less than cheery visage.

Today Michael and I actually left the house on our own. He is 5 weeks old and we have never managed this feat before. Phil went back to work last week and I don't know where the time goes to during the day. I count myself lucky if I manage to grab a shower and get dressed. This afternoon we walked into town and did some shopping. I was so pleased to briefly rejoin the land of the living that I called Phil at work to share in my victory. He was suitably impressed.

For my next trick, I will try to find the time to make myself something to eat during the day in addition to showering and dressing. I know, I know, I'm aiming high, but you never know - I might actually manage it one of these days! Phil usually comes home of an evening to find me feeding the baby on the sofa and surrounded by breast pads and muesli bar wrappers.

We have a smile!

Michael smiled for the first time this morning! He had been crying for a feed and I put him down on the bed to reach for my breastfeeding pillow and he immediately stopped crying and started looking around for some entertainment. Being a good mummy, I immediately obliged. After I pulled some particularly hilarious faces, he smiled at me. It certainly does make the sleepless nights and perforated ear-drums worthwhile. I called to Phil and we managed to get Michael to smile a few more times before he remembered that he was still waiting for some breakfast. I'll try to capture this smile on camera and post a picture.


The afternoon wasn't quite so fabulous as we went shopping at Vroom & Dreesmann in Amstelveen. It is a large department store with a great selection of baby clothes. I spent a happy half hour blowing my salary on little items of blue cloth whilst Phil was on another floor buying trousers. Whilst I was queuing at the checkout - disaster - Michael had a meltdown. The store was overly warm and he decided that he had had more than enough. I got a lot of pitying looks from other shoppers which was quite irritating - note to self - do not make eye contact with other shoppers when Michael has turned purple and is screaming the world down...







Things I love about Michael:

1. When he is having a cry and ends it with a sad little "Oooooooooh".
2. When he sticks his bottom lip out to get extra sympathy. Two female doctors fell for this hook, line and sinker yesterday.
3. His baby smell.
4. When he looks right at me and smiles.
5. The cute little monkey faces he pulls when feeding.

Things that drive me to hurl myself out of the window:

1. Michael instinctively knows when I've just started eating a meal or when I'm watching a programme I really want to see. He makes a point of howling extra loud at those times. I will never know what Gordon Ramsey threatened to do with that pumpkin on "Hell's Kitchen" yesterday.
2. The lack of sleep.
3. Did I mention the lack of sleep?

Phil has just reminded me of something funny that happened last night. It was about 3am and he had taken Michael into the nursery to change his nappy. I was watching TV in the bedroom next door. A couple of minutes after he left the room I started hearing exclamations of horror - "Oh no!" "No, stop!" and other such comments. Then I heard laughter that sounded tinged with hysteria. I decided to investigate and found Phil holding Michael suspended in mid air over the changing station. Michael was enthusiastically pooping all over a nappy on the changing station below. Phil wasn't able to put him down without covering him in poop and didn't have a free hand to get a clean nappy. Mummy to the rescue! Poor Michael was howling but Phil and I found the whole thing very funny and fell about laughing. We had to assure Michael afterwards that we weren't laughing at him.

Poorly baby

Poor Michael is unwell. He has met a grand total of four people since leaving the hospital two weeks ago and has left the house once for a walk with Phil and I. Despite this, he has managed to pick up a cold from someone. He is incredibly snuffly and we're having to use a saline nasal spray four times a day. He also has to have his mattress raised up so that he can sleep. When he first started to get unwell on Thursday, Phil and I called the out-of-hours doctor (it was 10pm) to see what we should do. She told us to bring Michael to the hospital for a check-up. We abandoned our KFC dinner and ran around the house gathering up anything we might possibly need for such a journey and headed off straight away. Fortunately, he didn't have a fever and his chest and ears were clear. All he needs is the saline spray and some TLC. I was really looking forward to going out and about with him but we'll have to wait until he is well again to show him the world outside the house.

Birth story

Warning - this is quite a graphic account of my labour experience so please do not read on if you are at all squeamish!

I've been meaning to get around to writing this for ages but the timing has never been right. Michael is currently fast asleep on his Daddy so I guess now is the time.

On the evening of Friday 11th August, Phil and I had been watching the Big Brother eviction on TV and afterwards I started to get some niggling pains - low back-ache and some cramping. I really wasn't sure if it was anything or not and we went out for a walk. When we came home I took a shower and went to bed and the pains stopped. At 4am I woke up a split second before my waters broke. We are not talking a little trickle here - it was more like Niagara Falls. When I look back over my labour experience, I think this was the most shocking thing of all. I tried to rouse Phil:

Catherine: "Phil, my waters have broken!"
Phil: "OK"
Catherine (slightly more urgently): "Phil, my waters have broken!"
Phil: "OK"
Catherine (now getting angry): "Turn the light on, you silly man!"

This got the desired reaction and we got up. I didn't start getting contractions until an hour or so later and they were reasonably manageable through the night until we could call the midwife out at 9am. I don't know if I have mentioned it before, but the plan was to have a home water birth. We had rented a birth pool and Phil had practiced assembling it the week before. Anyway, back to the story. By the time the midwife arrived the contractions had become very painful and frequent. I was dismayed to learn that I was only 1cm dilated. The midwife offered me the opportunity to go to the hospital and have an epidural. This was very surprising as the Dutch are very keen on natural childbirth and anecdotally it is easier to get blood from a stone than an epidural. I declined the opportunity to go to the hospital and the midwife left after telling us that she would be back to check on me in four hours.

This is the point where things started to move very fast. My contractions were coming almost continuously - I couldn't change position without having another one. I tried everything to help - yoga, my birth ball, the shower, a massage - nothing helped. An hour and a half after the midwife left I relented and agreed to go to the hospital. I would have done virtually anything at this point to escape the pain, I'm sure. I regret that I was not strong enough to resist accepting an epidural. I had had a completely medication-free pregnancy and still feel that on some level I failed Michael in this respect. The midwife made arrangements for me to go to Leids Universitair Medisch Centrum in Leiden. It took about two hours for Phil and I to leave the house because getting dressed and getting ready to go was severely hampered by my contractions. I honestly thought I would never make it the 30km to the hospital in the car.

Get there we did, and I even managed to sleep between contractions in the car. We were shown into a delivery suite and I was examined and found to be 5cm dilated. Progress! I was pretty out of it and found it very difficult to talk to anyone - I couldn't focus on anything but the pain. I was put on a monitor and a drip and we waited for the anaesthetists to arrive. A short time later, four of them arrived in green caps and gowns. I really don't know why four were necessary. One to site the epidural, and three to stand around in awed silence, maybe? I was then hooked up to more machines and a scalp monitor was put on Michael. This is regret number two. For whatever unfathomable reason, the epidural did not work - at all. I had full sensation in my legs. It was at this point that I got an irresistible urge to push - everyone was standing around waiting for the epidural to work and it took some time to get this urge taken seriously. I was examined again and found to be fully dilated. This was half an hour after arriving at the hospital. I had dilated 5cm in half an hour - still makes me wince to think about it! The anaesthetists told me that they didn't know why the epidural hadn't worked, but they cheerily wished me luck and left.

The doctor then told me that I could push. I think the last bit of sanity I had left me at this point. Not five minutes ago I was waiting for blissful numbness from the waist down and was now being told to push. I was exhausted and distressed and ending up pushing for almost two hours. They gave me an injection to increase the frequency and strength of the contractions - this didn't help. Michael's heart rate was starting to dip when I had a contraction so the doctors decided that I would need some additional help to deliver him and got a ventouse kit. This was agonising, and I had to have an episiotomy (mercifully, with a local anaesthetic) but it was effective and Michael's head was born a short time later. I have frequently read that delivering the head is supposed to be the hard part and that the body is just supposed to slither out with the next contraction. No such luck. Anyone who knows Phil and I will know what broad shoulders he has. Little (or not so little) Michael has inherited his Daddy's shoulders and got himself well and truly stuck. In being born, his right collar bone was broken. He was cleaned up and put on my tummy and the cord was clamped and then cut by Phil. This is regret number three as I did not want the cord to be clamped until it had stopped pulsing. As I mentioned, I was too out of it to really object. I don't hold the broken collar bone as a regret as this would have happened regardless of the labour experience - he was just too big for my little pelvis.

My poor little boy had a raised area on his head and a killer headache from the ventouse. He also had to have the sleeve of his sleepsuit pinned to the button area to prevent him from raising his arm and turning his broken collar bone. We spent a night in the hospital getting to know each other and we were discharged the next day after the paediatrician had examined Michael.

There are a lot of areas of my labour experience that sadden me greatly. I see pain in my little boy's eyes when I look at the photos that were taken of him immediately after the birth and even now I find it difficult not to cry. At the end of the day, Phil and I have been blessed with a beautiful and healthy little boy and this is the best gift we could ever have.

Welcome to the world, Baby Gleghorn!

We joyfully announce the birth of our son

Michael Alexander Gleghorn

on Saturday, 12th August 2006 at 4:15 p.m.
Weighing 9 pounds, 2½ ounces

He fills our arms with love and our hearts with happiness

Philip and Catherine Gleghorn

Happy due date to me

Well here I am on my due date. Have I spent the morning staring adoringly into the eyes of my baby son? Have I been doubled over in agony with labour pains? No I haven't. Shall I tell you how I have spent my morning? I have been on my hands and knees looking in nooks and crannies for our hamster.

His cage door was accidentally left open last night when Phil was feeding him and he made his escape after we went to bed. This isn't the first time that Quadrinaros has made a bid for freedom and his second bid has not been more successful than the first. We found him curled up fast asleep in the bookcase having chewed his way through my CV writing book. Thank goodness there wasn't a scratch on him and other than being rather thirsty, he seems to be absolutely fine.

Given that I haven't had so much as a twinge, I doubt that my day will get any more exciting than this. I had a midwife appointment this afternoon and baby M is doing well, although perhaps a little too well as he is clearly very happy where he is. If he still hasn't put in an appearance by next Friday then I will be sent to Spaarne hospital for a scan and examination and if all is well with him and the placenta then I will be allowed to go to 42 weeks. At that point I will have to go to the hospital to be induced. As the midwife put it, I will be a Mummy by 21st August. What a scary and exciting thought!

Screams rend the morning air

I have been taking pregnancy yoga classes for the past 5 months. The purpose is to prepare my body for labour and to give me coping strategies and breathing techniques for the pain. Everything I have learned went right out of the window this morning when I woke up with a vicious cramp in my right calf. I sprang out of bed like my arse was on fire (pretty impressive given the size of my bump) and began hobbling around the room, bellowing like an angry bull. Inbetween bellows I managed to explain to Phil what the problem was and he grabbed my calf and massaged it (after first grabbing my thigh - he was still half asleep, the poor man). The pain melted away immediately. This does not bode well for my chances of coping in labour...

What's in a name?

The town hall have agreed to change my name to Catherine Gleghorn. This may seem like a small thing but it is a big deal to me. My chosen name will appear on baby M's birth certificate.

Now back to the baby. I'm trying to decide which baby carrier to buy and am finding this just as much of a minefield as choosing a travel system. The firm favourite at the moment is the Wilkinet Baby Carrier. It has a traditional look so that Phil can wear it without too much embarrassment and it has excellent reviews. Other than the baby carrier, I have pretty much finished shopping for baby things.

All being well, I will have a homebirth and this requires some purchases that we had not anticipated. Firstly, I have to buy two rectal thermometers. One for the baby and one for... me. How I tried to talk the midwife out of this. "Leave my bottom alone!" I told her but she would have none of it. She told me that once in labour I won't notice or give a damn what implements she chooses to shove up there. "Give me my dignity!" I told her. All pleas fell on deaf ears. We also have to raise the level of the bed to make examination easier. The midwife told us to go to the local supermarket and ask for eight Coke crates. No, I'm not kidding. I sent Phil to do this because I would probably have laughed or got very embarrassed (not quite as embarrassed as with the rectal thermometer, but embarrassed enough). Phil dutifully made the request and the assistant didn't even bat an eyelid - she just fetched the crates. I guess it is very common in Holland for births to be sponsored by the Coca Cola company.

Drowning in red tape

For those who haven't read my profile, my husband and I are British expats who have been living in The Netherlands for the past 6.5 years. This evening we went to the local town hall to register our marriage. We were married in Rome in April of last year. As you have probably gathered, we procrastinate quite a bit...

This should have been a very straightforward process which we finally made a priority of doing so that Phil is automatically assumed to be baby M's father without having to sign a parental declaration. Unfortunately, I had underestimated Dutch law...

Under British law I have the right to assume my husband's surname on marriage. This I did at the British Consulate in Amsterdam, and I had my passport changed accordingly. My marriage certificate is an Italian legal document and in the box that shows what my married name choices are, it gives both my maiden name and husband's surname as options. With me so far? Good. Now for the problem. Under Dutch law, the town hall has to accept the entry in this particular box exactly as it is written as my married name choice. So instead of being:

Catherine Fogg (maiden name)

or:

Catherine Gleghorn (husband's surname)

The Dutch want me to be:

Catherine Fogg Gleghorn

Are you kidding me?!? So the town hall has to investigate whether British and Italian law can take precedence over Dutch law here. It is clear what was intended in the marriage certificate and this was accepted by the British Consulate. I am not a Dutch citizen so I don't see how Dutch law can be allowed to prevent me from taking my husband's surname. I will find out tomorrow or the day after what the outcome of the investigation is and if they insist on this ridiculousness then I will have to take legal advice.

Grrr.

Apologies to baby M for hijacking his blog to have a rant in. He's doing well, by the way!