I really mustn’t be one of those Baby Bore Mummy’s … whoops! #toolate

The best first passport photos ever!

The best first passport photos ever!

It amazes me that when I started this blog, I was at the very beginning of my journey with Freddie. I didn’t even know he was a he, let alone that he would be called Freddie; or that my body possessed the ability to propel him from my vagina. He’s 18 weeks on Thursday, and I continually exclaim how fast time is going, and how fast Freddie is growing. We’ve been out most of the day with friends, and when I was tagged in some photos this evening, I looked twice – because as you can see, Fred is looking less and less like a wobbly baby and more like a chunky cherub of a little boy! So many emotions! I had to remove the newborn insert from the car seat last week; and then I’ve moved the seat on the pram higher so he doesn’t lie down flat anymore. Today I bought size 3+ PLUS nappies. I’m so aware of the fleeting nature of babyhood … how these 18 weeks I’ve wanted to hold him and love him and get to know everything about the little boy who grew in my tummy. I hope his smiles show that he knows how loved he is …

Happy Boy in his pram

Happy Boy in his pram

We’ve had a jolly few days, although the heat has been challenging for a warm baby … lots of coolish baths and no nappy time lying in the direction of the fan [yes, I’ve had a few wee-wee-fountains!!] He is such a joy; such a happy chuckling bundle of baby celluliite. I constantly awake in the morning to him in my arms [yes, haven’t quite mastered the sleeping in a cot thing yet, much to the detriment of my neck, arm and shoulder muscles] and look down on his chubby cheeks amazed that I could’ve grown someone so beautiful. Every day his personality emerges a little more … his squeals of excitement as he jumps in his Jumperoo … his recognition of the ducks in the bath, his engagement with Baby Sensory classes. It’s all amazing, and I feel so lucky. So lucky. Pinch. Pinch. For this, for him, I can forgive my own wobbly thighs and the bags under my eyes … [thankfully the post partum piles have now receded]

I remember writing a post when pregnant about little annoyances such as strangers fondling my bump. Well, current new mum annoyancies include those pesky, akin to gold dust, few and far between “parent child” car parking spaces. Personally, I think they should bring back hanging just for the ignorant, lazy, selfish oafs who use them without a child. In fact, I think they should solely be for those mums lugging car seats and prams around … who find themselves jammed in and unable to get said car seat into car, because some lazy sod can’t be bothered to walk a few more metres for their super size multipack of skips and tesco value burgers. Hmm. AND, more’s the point, there should be more of those “parent child” spaces. More of them, I tell you! More! Lots more! Get onto it Mr Cameron.

Secondly, it can be quite frankly traumatic walking around K-town with a pram. I’m not the best driver out there, but seriously – some people are just vacant. I’m fairly sleep deprived at the moment, yet have to be spot on with the reflexes to avoid ramming said pram into old ladies and [most annoying of all] PEOPLE WHO JUST STOP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE F*****G PAVEMENT.

THEN, there are those days when baby Freddie REALLY doesn’t like Boots. I mean, REALLY doesn’t like Boots. He will wail and wail, usually because he needs a nap and would rather cry about being tired than close his eyes [bless him, he’s a stubborn one my boy] – and somehow the lights and smell of Boots sends him into meltdown. But I need nappies and Diprobase and yet more breast pads … so we venture into the world of pushing a screaming baby around a shop. Now, dear friends who don’t have children – I remember being you, giving the dirty looks and rolling the eyes … I remember thinking how inconsiderate it was bringing a wailing child into a shop whilst I’m busy deciding whether to go for the teal or brown eyeliner. Well, I tell you … it’s pretty hellish being the mum attached to that pram. I can feel my cheeks going red, my heart pounding, as I hurry to the baby section and knock entire displays of nappies over trying to find the right size …. “someone’s not happy today” says an old lady looking at a purple faced Freddie, mouth wide open. I immediately take this as a criticism of my mothering skills, but smile and tell her he needs a nap …..

Baby needs boob. Will return …

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