Merry Xmas

This is the first Christmas in decades there has been a child in our family, and therefore around on the day. This is great as it’s given everyone an excuse to go toy (read: REAL Xmas) shopping.

It also means at the moment we can enjoy things like wrapping J’s gifts in front if him and telling ‘Santa-isn’t-real’ stories.

Someone asked me the other day what I’ll be teaching J about Xmas. Well, here we go.

1. It’s a Christian festival. As an atheist I don’t celebrate Christ’s birth. I celebrate turkey, pigs in blankets and the fact the days are getting longer. If J wants to celebrate God, that’s his choice when he’s old enough to understand it.
2. There is a Santa, but none of the ones you see in shopping centres are the real one. The real one is far too busy making presents, so he has helpers. This is the line my parents used with me.
3. It’s the giving. I fucking love giving presents. I love it when people open them. And I am GREAT at buying gifts. I want to pass on that joy to my son.
4. You MAY NOT open a present on Xmas eve. Get serious.
5. It is mandatory to open your presents whilst wearing your pyjamas. And opening you stocking in bed is even better.
6. Chocolate oranges are a breakfast food.

So there you go. Nothing too profound, and certainly nothing mature. I love Xmas, and hope my son will, too. Now, I have to get back to attempting to wrap the 1.5m tall sensory bubble tube J is getting as his ‘big present’.

Have a good one, people.

Five months?

Can it really be five months since I started maternity leave? Apparently it almost is.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the return to work in four months. I’ve also been thinking about my studies. I’ve been thinking about a PhD. Finishing my novel. Focussing on getting more stuff published. I’ve been thinking about myself a lot. Selfish.

It’s clear to me that going back full time is not an option. The Mr works shifts so I couldn’t easily tailor myself around him; it’s up to me to find out what works.

And really, I don’t think I will be back in May. That’s when my Mat Pay runs out, but I have a dissertation to write over the summer. I’ll need every spare moment to do that. More than likely, I’ll be looking at a September return. And that will mean J will be one, which will be lovely.

At the same time, I’m looking into possibly doing a PhD. That would mean no return to work for a few years, but more on that later.

J: Progress Report

J is now just over 14 weeks old. Here is a list of stuff he can do:

1. Roll from front to back. He achieved this yesterday in a desperate attempt to escape from tummy time. It worked.

2. Grab hold of his feet and rock. I’m sure this is leading to back-to-front rolling.

3. Lift his head up and look in different directions when face down.

4. Finish a 7oz bottle. Though only when he wakes in the night.

5. Sleep a six-hour stretch at night. 8 – 2.

6. Fit into 0-3 clothes properly.

7. Grab hold of the toys on his bouncy chair.

8. Recognise his grandparents (on one side).

9. Play alone while I have a shower / make dinner.

10. Wail as though I’m murdering him when he realises he’s going in the car seat.

Tummy Time and Other Evils

Fuck tummy time.

There. I said it.

Fuck having to make my son cry two or three times a day as his stomach is squashed into the ground. Fuck having to wave toys he isn’t interested in at him to get him to look up. Fuck having to comfort him as he cries himself to sleep in distress at the whole business.

Seriously, I am done. J has no interest whatsoever in being on his front. His favourite thing at the moment is practicing sitting up and ‘walking’ on my legs and up my chest. He wants to be upright. He doesn’t give a hoot about the floor.

On his front, J’s legs go into the ‘frog’ position and he tries to crawl – pushing up onto his tiptoes, backside in the air, trying to commando crawl, he’s desperate to be on the move. He doesn’t care about the jingly toy in front of him. And because he’s too little to crawl yet, he cries in frustration and dismay.

When held on my hip, J looks about with his head up, and pushes back when carried on a shoulder. The floor, however is the enemy.

So fuck you, tummy time. J is almost rolling over now so we’ll see you in a few weeks, at his own pace.