17 months on... a baby and a raaather large house

So, it's a bit random to be writing again after all this time, but I have missed my blog and I think I have my blogging mojo back at long last. It wasn't really a writer's block...more a suspicion that my life had become so uninteresting that there was very little point boring other people about it. I had moved into the humdrum of normal life. But I'm now a mother, and that has brought about it a renewed love of writing - noting down miracles such as conception, childbirth, the first night your baby sleeps through the night, the first time he sits without needing to be propped up with pillows, the first time he eats something which isn't white, and milky.

One of the most surprising aspects of being a mum, was that whilst you can prepare for the whole of your pregnancy by reading all sorts of graphic accounts about how much weight certain celebrities gain to learning what sort of root vegetable size your baby grows to each week ("week 15...your baby is now a regular size spanish red onion" (honestly), from oiling your tummy at night in order to prevent stretch marks to hypnotising yourself on a regular basis in order to learn 'how to self hypnotise' when you are in labour (and therefore channel the pain away from your actual self...) (it didn't work), there are absolutely no frank accounts of how awful the first few weeks after childbirth actually are.

For anyone expecting (actually, who am I kidding...I'm sure Hugo is going to be my only reader), don't read on. Or actually, do read on, because this is what no-one tells you and although I'm sure it's not like this for everyone, it was like this for me.

In order to share my experience, I thought I'd share a fairly un-typical day with a baby, but one that drives a deep-set determination never to let yourself get pregnant again:

"Oh my god. It's 8.30pm and I'm hiding in our room, radio on to drown out the racket of J screaming...we've had a very definite devil baby day from start to finish. He has wanted to feed more frequently than every 4 hours and has been sick on me about 3 times...today went as follows:

6am - crying - H went to settle
7.15am - feed
8.30-9.30 - sleep
9.30 - 10am - crying
10 - 10.30am - walk
10.45am - feed
11 - 11.30 - crying
11.50 - 12.30 - sleep
13.00 - 15.00 - awake/chilled
15.15-15.30 - walk with Hinba /crying in buggy
15.30 - 16.30 - sleeping on and off...
and so on and so forth....

But, to be fair that was right at the beginning, and now he's 7 months old, James is a total delight. I think that day just happened to be in the middle of a growth spurt (be warned, they are not happy little spurts) . (i.e. it's not like 'woo hoo, my baby is growing, check him out!', but more like 'argh, this is my tenth breast feed in 12 hours and I think my eyes have sunk to the back of my head and my nipples can be tied in bows around my waist').

Anyhow, to stick to the title, I need to mention that we also moved house, from our adorable one bed flat, which was clearly in a well chosen location on the 3rd floor with 84 steps to the front door (lets just say the logic game 'the fox, the grain and the chicken' takes on a very real day to day meaning when you have to walk an 11 year old farty pants dog, bump a buggy back up 84 steps and then remember you're out of nappies). We are now house-sitting a gorgeous 5 bed house just the other side of the botanic gardens from where we were, with a garden! (happy Hinba!) Whilst it's not going to be forever, or even for long (who knows...living on the edge, I like it), it's heavenly to be out of 'the tower', and although moving house with a 5 month old baby can't be high up the list of anyone's 'things to do before I die' lists, it's certainly been a very good move for us.

The only thing I need to work on is thinking / speaking / writing without wanting to break into simple rhymes, or nursery-fi-cation of words, such as I now need to go to beddy bed bed to rest my weary old head head head.

Or, as my good and learned friend Nicky would say... rest my weary old hid.

(head / hid...it's the Glasgow accent).