Tag Archives: new dad

“Cat nip for kids.”

This is a bit of a niche read, more than so than my normal “I’m a dad let me tell you about it” but it is something that I think other parents may relate to.

This blog is all about my beef with Iggle Piggle, Dora, Peppa, The Tweenies and other high pitched kids TV characters.Image-1

I am well aware that I am not a Kids TV executives target audience, and just 5 minutes watching our small human stand in front of the TV and dance and sing along or sit transfixed with the shrill lead characters makes you realise they know what they are doing, as my wife puts it they have created “cat nip for kids”.

Now I do not hate ALL kids TV, and I have to admit I do love getting home from work in time to watch CBeebies with Bea. I don’t get the full bed time hour; getting back in time to be met by our little one who will excitedly beckon me into the living room, point at Iggle Piggle, Upsy Daisy or any of the other characters that reaffirm who they are by only being able to say their own name or come up with their own theme tune and we will watch them doing their stuff in the garden. The best bit is when Iggle Piggle knobs off on his boat and we get down to the Cbeebies bedtime story. Here the Beeb pull some weight
and pull in names such as Professor Brian Cox, Guy Garvey, Simon Pegg, Mary Anne Hobbs!!! And even crossing over the childhood timelines Floella Benjamin who all then read bedtime stories and wish the children of Britain a good night. Then comes the flosong, the good night song, all part of our night time routine now. Post song Bea will even take herself off to the bottom of the stairs ready to be escorted upstairs to bed. Perfect! Although I am aware that I need to be careful saying that in public, both not to jinx our luck or to infuriate those parents with little ones that refuse to sleep. We are lucky!

I don’t remember my very early days of watching kids TV; it is likely I was a fan of Play School and Rainbow because my first two toy bears were named Ted & Bungle. The TV that stirs up the happy memories are shows that seem to now be on Hollywood’s radar, my generation now all in our 30’s with some disposable income and nostalgia pangs large enough for us to want to see a big budget Transformers/Turtles films. I am still waiting for them to make a Thundercats movie – do you hear me Hollywood, make that movie!

The American cartoons like Ghostbusters, Transformers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, He-Man & Thundercats, are so good that films and re-boots have been created, lunch boxes, t-shirts, duvet covers and new toys made and sold (something more for the disposable income to be spent on?)

The fantastic British cartoons like Banana Man, SuperTed, Duckula, Danger Mouse; frankly ANYTHING voiced/narrated by David Jason don’t seem to have the same commercial value for a reboot (I know there is a new Danger Mouse cartoon – keen to see how good/bad it is).

My wife points out that Bea “cannot be into everything you are in to.” That is correct (although it would make things easier, and allow me to buy more toys for us to play with… Or keep on a shelf in my office), I’m kind of hoping that means I don’t have to be into everything she seems to like… But that is when the guilt kicks in.

There is a fantastic blog written about In The Night Garden In The Night Garden: 10 things we’re all thinking (aren’t we?) | The (mal)Contented Mother it covers an awful lot of what I don’t like about the show – it is no Rainbow. The zero shits given about the sizes of characters in relation to the Ninky Nonk and Pinky Ponk is a real bugbear of mine!!! Plus the fact that at 33 years old I have just typed Ninky Nonk and Pinky Ponk – ridiculous!!!

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As with many hugely popular kids shows there are those commercial opportunities, in addition to this there seems to be a trend about creating a ‘world’ or ‘experience’ – like a smaller, less bells-and-whistles Disneyland.

My wife emailed me this week asking if I wanted to visit In The Night Garden LIVE, to see Iggle Piggle in the flesh/fur/whatever he is made out of. They create The Night Garden and you and your younglings can get up close and witness ‘the magic’ first hand (even closer if you pay a premium for front row seats). The promo email had it all, the heart-warming testimonies, the images of happy families; even a video showing you a glimpse of what to expect… And yet my reply was a resounding NO!

“But imagine seeing her face, it would be worth it surely!?” Replied my wife

And here comes the guilt.

No

I literally watch this show and pick it apart.

The Night Garden isn’t the only place I’m not sure I’d want to visit. The Tweenies strike me as an obnoxious lot and to hear Jake & Milo whinge (A LOT) to see them LIVE would be a step too far for me. TellyTubby land looks like Hobbiton, so unless you can guarantee me an army of Orcs will invade and rip the aerial off LaLa’s head then nope… Count me out.

Peppa Pig has her own world, I have heard nothing but good things from friends that have been but, for me, Peppa is like Stacey from Gavin & Stacey, I just don’t care for the title character. Both Peppa and Stacey have high pitched moaning voices and both get whiny when life doesn’t go their way. It is the support cast that make the show, George, Smithy, Daddy Pig and Uncle Bryn all funny characters that hold the show together.

So do I want to visit that garden. NO!

 

Do I feel guilty? Should I feel guilty? I don’t know. Should I?

 

 

 

FYI: My wife and mother-in-law have decided to take Bea to see Iggle Piggle and crew, I’m sure they will have loads of fun without me muttering under my breath about the ridiculousness of it all!

 

evil forces

 

 

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Blogging again

According to WordPress it has been over 200 days since my last post – 2016 will be the year I do not leave it as long.

During this blogging hiatus there has been a lot of change going on around here. The mini human is just that now, a walking, kinda talking smaller version of us, with her own personality and foibles – IT IS A LOT OF FUN

During our antenatal classes the mums to be were all discussing MILESTONES cards – now I will be honest when the concept of different cards that baby ‘holds’ whenever a major milestone is hit and we then snap a photo of this moment providing a chronological image diary was described to me I didn’t see the point of them!? However, once we started to use them, and I could stage some of the photos for comedy value (well I found them funny!) then I have to admit I started to warm to the idea.  My wife has printed some of the milestone moments and has put them in a frame together and they look great – if nothing else it is nice having lots of pictures of the youngling in different stages of her first year.

 

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Milestone Card Moments

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There are, thankfully, some milestone cards that have not been produced – I may have to set up my own line of inappropriate milestone moments…

Weaning off bottles and onto solid food was fun. I say fun. I mean messy. I say messy. I mean some of our walls have been ‘redecorated’ with food produce permanently.

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Messy eating/redecorating.

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So we began the journey with liquidised food, as previous blogs mention we used a fair amount of Ella’s pouches in this process. Some of the combos of food were fantastic and I think at times baby ate better than we did. All power to those that make their own concoctions, my wife tried, but got so disheartened to see that’s after spending ages on her flavours and prep work the meal size portions come out of the freezer, defrost and then end up on the floor or the walls!

We moved onto the pouches to save the sanity of the whole family.

So spoon feeding was an experience, at the same time Bea was entering a crazy flailing left arm phase!? Seriously, her left arm seemed to have a mind of its own for about a month. You could load up a spoon full of Sunday Roast in liquid form from the pouch and before you know it, quicker than Ali in his prime; the sting from our Bea was the crazy left arm swipe and food was everywhere!

We then moved on to the milestone of wanting to hold the spoon to feed herself, this upgraded at times to chucking the spoon aside and grabbing the pouch and squeezing the contents into her mouth.

Spoon-less eating quickly followed – who has time for spoons when you can grab handfuls of food and face palm it into your mouth and surrounding area? We know the handling of food, the schmooshing up of food and even the throwing of food is all part of experimentation; and touch and texture is as important as smell and taste. However, when you see baked beans thrown up the kitchen wall you do question the educational value of it all.

Weaning onto solid foods milestone – tick

Hand gestures such as clapping and waving are now a regularity. In the early days a wave was met with celebration (from us) she looked super pleased with herself so waving at everything became her thing. Wave at lamp, wave at car, wave at DVD case, wave at reflection in the mirror.

Teaching the high 5 was a personal highlight, again followed by much celebration from me, which led to clapping from her, so much so that when giving the gesture for high 5 she would get ahead of herself and just clap. This often left me hanging, with her looking to any bystander like she was just sarcastically clapping me.

Now, she will happily clap at gameshows when the audience do, wave when you say “hello” or “bye bye” we have even moved onto the high 10!

During my wife’s maternity leave Karen and Bea attended ‘sing and sign’ classes together. I attended once and it seemed like a lot of ladies singing while waving their hands about while the babies crawled around eating toys. BUT the classes have totally paid off.

One night a few months ago we were woken by screams of terror from Bea’s room, both running in to comfort her we lifted her from the cot bed to have a cuddle. As we did she made a hand gesture, one we knew, one we had been using to sign for milk for many months. She was telling us she needed/wanted some milk. Quickly some was made up in a bottle and she latched on as if she hadn’t eaten for days. All parents think their kids are a genius sure, but could she be a total brain box with stuff like this?

Non-verbal communication – tick (with a high five)

I achieved my own milestone, one I don’t think I would want to do too often. About 9 months after Bea was born (to coin a Mickey Flannigan term) I went out out!!! I woke up on the floor of our bathroom at 4am, it was one of ‘those’ nights. The hangover the morning after was pretty horrific, and I was left in charge of the mini human. She could sense my pain, and seemed to want to add to it. Eye gouging, face slapping, fish hooking and beard pulling. Lesson learnt, never again… until next time.

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The abuse of a hungover father.

Hungover childcare – tick

Linked to this semi non appropriate parenting, is another story I am not massively proud of, but will probably be part of my father of the bride speech if/when one is needed.

Our little one gets a bit clingy every now and then. If we dare to disappear to the toilet for example she wants to follow us, weirdly transfixed by the running water from the tap when we wash our hands. Now picture the scene (but not too vividly as you will discover shortly); home alone, I am in need of a number 1. Having left the door open to appease the clingy one, in she walks. First up, she heads to the loo roll and does her best Andrex puppy impression unraveling it so it ends up covering the floor at my feet. Then… Uh oh. She notices running liquid, this time not from a tap, from me. Outstretches her little hand between my legs to try and touch said liquid, still flowing I try to contort my body so she can get nowhere near me or my wee. It’s a milestone the books don’t tell you about or they have made a card for and one I am not sure how to define?

The walking milestone is another we can tick off. It all started on a family holiday, Bea had been standing on her own for a while, but you could sense that she was desperate to join in the fun and games, especially watching older cousins running about. The first few tentative steps were a thing of beauty, Bea looked so happy on stumbling a few steps and with us all cheering and clapping. Since then walking has become running, dancing, and attempting jumps. My only issue is how she has a tendency to use of her head as a brake!!!

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Taking Dad for a walk.

Walking milestone: tick

There are hundreds of little milestones that we have witnessed, ones that don’t have a card. We are currently smashing animal noises out of the park, now when I leave for work and ask for a kiss I get a little person running up to me and planting one on me.

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Snot and other ‘gifts’ for our first Christmas

It has been a while since I last updated the blog (thank you for all the kind words about the previous episodes)… a combination of the Christmas holidays and getting back into the swing of things at work heading into a busy 2015 has meant that the blog has been placed firmly on the back burner.

Having now reached some sort of balance and routine (famous last words) I have been able to reflect over our first Christmas and put pen to paper/fingers to keyboard.

We embarked on a Lord of The Rings type journey up the country from the sleepy South West to the even sleepier Lake District for a family holiday. Bubs had her first cold, so the five hour car journey was a traumatic one for all involved. If she wasn’t asleep she was SCREAMING… full of snot and goodness knows what else she found feeding hard, the whole breathing through nose while sucking on a bottle was not happening. All of this in conjunction with what we know as a ‘leap’ – a growth spurt where physically and mentally EVERYTHING changes for little people.

So she didn’t eat a lot, so she was hungry, so she screamed.

She didn’t sleep a lot because of the breathing thing, so she was tired, so she screamed.

She was cramped into a car seat, so couldn’t stretch and wriggle like normal, so she screamed.

Once out of the car seat at service stations she could stretch, but that probably hurt with growing pains, so she screamed.

Even though I am sure a large proportion of those people having the caffeine stop at the service stations we visited en route were understanding of our situation, when you are holding a screaming banshee ball of mucus you start to think those eyes looking upon you are judging your parent skills. Mix that with trying to communicate with the other half when one of us is holding the banshee, you end up shouting in short concise (could be taken as ‘moody’) sentences in between shrieks and snuffles… a perfect cocktail of stress and tiredness – that’s what Christmas is all about right?

When it comes to cold remedies babies get the raw end of the deal until three months old. Most remedies suggest that baby needs to be at least three months old before use… Now pre baby my wife was a stickler for rules. It could be any rule, we would have to keep to it… However a baby screaming with snot bubbling out of each nostril and not sleeping the rule of three months and over for certain products was thrown out. To clarify we were not completely gun ho with the life of our little one, we weren’t filling her bottles with Nightnurse or anything like that. Clarification from the local GP that our chunky monkey was the weight of a three month and therefore the rules could be bent gave us the green light to try any remedy to ease the snuffles.

Calpol has the sweetest smell of any medication I have encountered, Mary Poppins sang a ‘Spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down’ this stuff smells like it has a ladle full of sugar although it tells us it is sugar and colour free!? We administer it via the provided syringe… at times this syringe sticks and I admit to having sent a medical torpedo of this sickly sweet smelling concoction right down the back of the throat of our trusting little person. Cue wide eyes of surprise and then screaming through shock!

On arrival to the accommodation in the Lakes we were met by all the family. Some baby had met once, others she had never met… cue a sense overload… so many coochee coos and cuddles, passed from one cousin to the next, obviously this led to more screaming.

Tanked up on calpol, baby vicks and having had time to get comfortable with new surroundings baby sat with family members having a play–Graunty Sally (we have coined Graunty and Gruncle for the great aunties and uncles) playing who can make the silliest noise, managed to break through the tiredness/hunger/grumpiness and got the first ever giggle from our bambino. A release of emotion from stressed parents led to a mix of laughter and crying… baby just laughed along with us.

Post first giggle our mission then was to make baby laugh as much as possible. She clued up pretty quickly and decided she would not be a performing monkey and would not laugh on demand. She let out an almighty giggle when Karen and I were bent over in hysterics… This moment of mirth started during bath time. We often joked that at some point she was bound to poo in the bath, the law of parenting averages would tell you to expect it. As I muttered “Perhaps tonight is poo-bath night” we had her crimson face of disaster… a brief strain/grunt and the bath water turned an evil EVIL shade… something touched my hand as I held baby to prevent her splashing this evil bath/poo soup everywhere… it wasn’t the wash cloth!!! We fell about laughing, baby found this hilarious and copied us… all three of us laughing, two of us with poo on or around us. We had to wait for the laughter tears to pass before cleaning up the mess and starting bath time all over again!

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It is during the regular bath times that I realised how much stuff baby has; oils, lotions, shampoos, medicated things, soothing smells etc etc. When I moved in with Karen the bathroom products I had at my disposal increased in size dramatically (male friends have admitted to similar increase of toiletries when living with girls). Options of silky smooth shampoos, ultra moisturising whatsits, hair oils, hand stuff, exfoliating sandpaper like body washes… and so on. I tried them all. Now with baby’s stuff I have a plethora of other options when it comes to pampering at bath/shower time. I am not afraid to admit it, I will probably try everything!

The Butterfly Effect

The early stages of parenthood have offered up a host of ‘firsts’ for us as Mum & Dad – yes there are the expected firsts that bring much joy, first gurgle of noise, first smile, first night where baby slept 6 hours straight!!!

Then there are the firsts that the books and websites don’t prepare you for. The first time you discover dried milk in your ear when at work sitting next to a colleague, the first time you run to and stand in the shower as your baby projectile vomits a milky fountain everywhere (I couldn’t think of another place to stand where carpet of upholstery would not be in the firing line). A first for us as a couple was me being woken by my wife exclaiming “YAY, you’ve done a poo!!!” – having a baby suffering from reflux we were prescribed infant Gaviscon. The stuff worked for the sickness but proceeded to cause constipation in our little one (a usual side effect we had been warned about) – because of this we were on poo watch. In the early hours of a dark November morning waking up to this statement of joy from my wife was a welcome, albeit weird first.

We have since been prescribed Ranitidine for the acid and this one prevents the blocking up of waste disposal routes. We have to administer via syringe into the mouth and the liquid has a smell that at first I could not put my finger on, then a flood of heavy nights out came back to me… sambucca, the stuff smells like sambucca! Add that to the firsts list, syringing what smells like a devil of a shot into my baby daughters mouth!

This week I have had a new tattoo. As soon as we decided on name options for our little one (we had two names for a boy and two for a girl) I started to think about a tattoo. I didn’t want text (nothing wrong with it, just not for me) so I needed to think outside of the box. We chose Beatrix (we shorten it often to Bea) as the name within minutes of seeing her and I knew from many months of thought beforehand what tattoo I was going to get – this decision was aided by a number of weird events leading up to Bea’s birth.

My mum passed away after a short intense battle with cancer on 29th October 2013. During the funeral service I noticed a tortoiseshell butterfly on the alter, front and center in the church, it is rare seeing one in November and when I mentioned it to family they also saw the butterfly (confirming I wasn’t totally losing the plot) – My sister and I told the story to Mums colleagues (mum was a teaching assistant in a primary school) at a later date, one of her friends then explained that during the Easter service, as the kids were singing Mums favourite hymn a tortoiseshell butterfly flew into the church, over the pupils heads and then out again! Now I am not daft enough to think this was the SAME butterfly, but this is a strange coincidence is it not?

It gets stranger.

My sister and I began to clear Mums house of her belongings… Mum was a hoarder, and she LOVED books! We took a library’s worth of books to local charity shops, and still there was more. Some were damaged and some just really old and falling apart, so we had to throw some away. As we were chucking books into the hired skip in the garden my sister and I were bombarded by swooping tortoiseshell butterflies. At least six of these kamikaze insects flew over us, into us and some even landed on the wall beside us – watching! With knowledge of previous butterfly encounters my sister exclaimed “We cant keep all of these books Mum, some have to be thrown away!”  

You may think us crazy, clutching at straws during the grieving process perhaps? But these butterflies do keep making an appearance, one flew past me on my return to work after paternity leave in mid October, nearly a year to the day of Mum losing her battle with cancer.

So when discussing my tattoo I knew I wanted a bee to represent my daughter, I also knew I wanted a tortoiseshell butterfly to be close by.

Thank you so much to Claire Dunn of DunnandDusted Tattoos https://www.facebook.com/DunnNDustedTattoo?fref=ts based at Third Eye Tattoos https://www.facebook.com/thirdeyecheltenham who captured EXACTLY what I wanted – we used an photo I took of one of the kamikaze book protecting butterflies to go with images of honeycomb and a bee I found online.

Processed with Moldiv butterfly

We’re all going crazy at the same time!

We have become gambling parents… no we are not taking punts our baby’s trust fund at the local bookies or on those bingo websites you see when watching day time TV. No not gambling of that nature, more of a risk benefit assessment at certain times of our parenthood journey.

For example, moving a naked soapy baby from bath to towel on bed is a risky business. Risk of bubs slipping out of our grip like a bar of soap, but also more pressingly (and thankfully yet to happen *touches wood as he types*) you could have a wee/poo moment during transition. Nappy roulette is also an interesting game to play, regular visitors to this blog (all three episodes!) will know we are bottle feeders. With bottle feeding comes less nappy action of the poo variety, what that does mean though is that when it does happen… it happens BIG! Therefore nappy roulette is a regular occurrence, you pray in silence that your turn to change is not THE ONE with the bullet in the chamber so to speak.

The cutting of the kitten-like nails of our baby is a gamble neither of us have taken yet. Being big fans of The Apprentice we have even purchased the Nipper Clipper from the genius mind of Tom Pellereau – they come with a handy window to prevent the nipping off of finger tips! tomEven so, we havenipper clipper both been too chicken to attempt it with a wriggler of limbs. We have resulted to minor cannibalism and nibbled at the offending mini blades on our daughters tiny hands.

The biggest gamble we took was not finding out the sex of our baby, it led to an exciting 9 months of speculation and buying non gender specific clothing (difficult to find in most stores but out there if you search far and wide) so when our little girl arrived she had a collection of outfits that were truly unisex. This week someone said “ooh what a lovely little boy” – we quickly corrected her, but in that case just ask boy or girl? Surely NEVER gamble!?

Trips out with the little one result in a car load of baby paraphernalia just to ensure every eventuality is catered for, the other day we had three outfit changes due to what can only be described as a poo-nami. Some changing facilities in public spaces you visit are great, others not so much. I am hugely surprised that security were not called to our local Waitrose (free coffee thank you very much!) when I used the baby change ‘room’. Me, baby and pram did not fit together cue a lot of crashing and banging and a fair bit of swearing. To escape with the pram intact I ended up resembling Austin Powers and his 15 point turn!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iLKR9tCiwvA

We did manage to find a local pub to fit all our ante-natal group into. The mums have been meeting up on a regular basis since all babies were born, but this was the first time dads were involved. All our bundles of joy lined up in their car seats as we chatted, ate and drank – the six babies (one baby & her folks couldn’t make it) caused quite a stir with other bar flies – especially around the festive time of year they did resemble the seven dwarfs (minus one dwarf) in their Christmas jumpers. 7 babies

Us dads managed to talk rugby, Christmas lights and Star Wars (much excitement about the Episode VII trailer between two of us). But, as soon as our little ones were passed to us we turned to mush and began the baby talk – sleep patterns, nappies and the level of nostril stingingness of the waste products held within.

The support network the girls provide each other is fantastic and a reason alone to do ante-natal classes. As we shared stories of night time routines, nappy life hacks and the different options of bottle it was nice to know other parents suffer with grunty babies and talk to themselves.

One conversation summed it all up:

new mum “I’m glad that happens to you too and I’m not going crazy!”

new dad “No, we are all crazy… just we are all going crazy at the same time!”

What is that smell!?

Having returned to work after paternity leave a month ago I hoped I managed to keep the ‘new dad’ look to a minimum.

Dark circles under my eyes? Sure! To be fair I work with kids so those bags appear on a far too regular basis, a mixture of stress and tiredness.

Personal hygiene (I hope) has been kept at a decent standard… I guess my colleagues will be able to tell you if this is all in my head!?

So panda eyes aside, and the odd yawn at inappropriate times (best not to do it while being spoken to by the boss) I thought I had it together.

BUT during a presentation this week I found myself swaying… as if Beatrix was in my arms and I was trying to swing her to sleep. I only hope I didn’t make those pretending to pay attention to what I was saying feel sea sick!

Swaying is just one of those things that you do without realising it after a few weeks of parenthood. Holding a one sided conversation with a baby is another. In the first few days of getting Bea home we hadn’t quite got used to sharing our space as a three; my wife would be in a separate room chatting away…

“What did you say?” I’ll ask suspecting she was asking me something…

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?” asking louder…

A moment passes and from that rooms comes

“I’m talking to the baby, not you!”

Believe me when I say this type of conversation has happened in reverse and continued to happen for a week or two until we just started to ignore noises from the other rooms, leading to questions like “Didn’t you hear me ask you to put the kettle on?” – I can now add selective hearing to my parenting repertoire.

We are clearly used to the little lady being around now, recently we have both found ourselves automatically trying to ‘burp’ each other when having a cuddle… rubbing or patting each other’s backs in auto-pilot like we would with Bea. It may shock friends and family at Christmas when we end up rubbing them on the back for slightly longer than is socially acceptable, even more shocking if they end up burping I guess!

Speaking of family, a bit of tech that allows loved ones keep up to date with those images of your little bundle without you having to take over their social media timelines is a clever little website and app called TinyBeans https://tinybeans.com/

Much like a calendar you can add images to each day and then invite family and friends to join you in the journey and make comments to photos added. It is a great way of dating images taken by thrusting an iPhone into the face of a newborn because a funny face is being pulled or the first smile is creeping in, providing a timeline of growth and the changes in your little bundle.TinyBeansTB iOS

Photos provide us with great snapshots of life, videos likewise images and sounds. What they miss is smells, thankfully in our case! Recently we were sat on the sofa with our little lady during a feed, we could smell ‘something odd’… so we checked the nappy, checked the bib, and checked the bottle – it all smelt normal.

As baby protested (by waving her arms about) to us sniffing around her like truffle pigs we got a waft of a cheesy, musty smell. Think sweaty feet mixed with week old football boots and you are somewhere close.

So we entered our Sherlock mind palace – I lie, we typed into google  “Why do my baby’s hands smell?” and came to the conclusion that every time baby put her hands in her mouth post feed she was soaking her babygro scratch gloves  in a combo of saliva and formula milk residue (formula milk STINKS!).

Add to that her hands being clenched within the babygro for most of the day we had a lovely combo of sweat and formula milk spit festering and creating a cheesy pong .

The difficulty was that minus scratch gloves Bea seemed determined to dig her eyes out, so we now have system of hand cleaning when we change nappies, and immersing the hands for a long period come bath time. We are also trying to stop hands in mouth immediately after a feed while still using the all in one babygro scratch gloves.

Every day is a parenting school day… Always learning!

One Armed Bandits

One armed bandits

As a parent of new born your life becomes portions of time and small areas of space throughout the day.

Time: what can you get done between nappy changes and feeds… shower? Eat some food? Vacuum? Watch some TV? To get two of the four done will feel like an achievement. Hats off to the stay at home Mums and Dads who do this and lots more 24/7

Space: your world needs to be within arm’s reach when you are holding a new born. Life becomes a series of one armed challenges especially when the baby is asleep – DO NOT WAKE THE BABY

Eating – check

Drinking – check

Finding the remote – check

Scratching your nose/ears/head/arm that is holding the baby – check

They could introduce it as a challenge on The Cube!

When both arms are deployed as baby support; that is when team work is needed. It has been known in our house for me to serve my wife food as she holds bubs fast asleep. However, turns out I cram in waaay more food than she does, this has led to meal debris spurting out as she has asked for “less on the fork next time please!”

I also inadvertently mastered the one hand poo catch… yup, it is as it sounds!

Baby decided to engage in chemical warfare during a nappy change and to prevent our carpet becoming collateral damage I did what a man had to do… I put my hand in the way as some sort of makeshift poo dam!

One thing I have noticed as a new Dad is most new Mums (friends who are parents, ante-natal class pals etc) are happy to discuss their breasts with you! It is not how my fifteen year old self would imagine the conversation going… buzzkill words such as cracked, dry, leaky nipples remind you that even after the pain, tiredness, mental exhaustion of labour, the Mums are still hitting a pain barrier almost every day.

That is why, as partners, we must choose our words wisely.

After a period of trying to breastfeed and struggling with babies ability to latch and feed we tried a bottle… Baby had a light bulb moment, liked it and fed happy. It means I can do my share of night feeds, so I get to bond with her by feeding and burping (proud Dad when a loud one busts out!)

*** During a late night feed as I dropped the bottle into hot water to warm up, noticing the water reach near spillage level I pondered

“If all the boats and submarines in the sea right now were removed completely, would sea levels drop?” ***

Any help answering much appreciated.

….Back to bottle feeding:

I had been told by many mix feeding (boob* and bottle) was the holy grail of baby dinner time, the ability to choose between one or the other when out and about freeing Mum up and providing flexibility. So when my wife – after a very difficult period trying to breast  feed – told me she wanted to switch to the bottle only, although internally that was totally cool and I supported her decision, it is her body after all, my face (I think) gave a different reply, one that led her to believe I was disappointed she was not going to go through (MORE) pain, suffering and stress to try and breast feed.

She doubted her own decision – you are told BREAST IS BEST by most – to even find information about formula milk via leading manufacturers websites you have to ‘tick box agree’ that this is your understanding… talk about pile the pressure on!?

BREAST IS BEST

That is why we must choose our words (and apparently facial expressions) wisely.

It is after all both the best and the most stressful job in the world being a parent

*fifteen year old self took over typing