Duffed no more: It runs in the family

To be completely honest, I garnered a faint suspicion early on that my darling Mini D was perhaps going to take after my side of the family (in some respects) at the 12 week scan. From the anecdotes that I've heard from quite a lot of mothers, their "euphemism" was serenely treading water, sleeping or looking generally pretty Zen at this point. And my beloved is a bit of a laid back guy.

Hmm...after about 10 seconds into the first ultrasound, it was clear that this was not going to happen in my world. Jumping bean central. Rick O'Shay. Ditto at the 20 week and 23 week scan. We couldn't tell the gender because he wouldn't actually stay still long enough. This reminds of my greatly adored and brilliant little sister, whose dedication to talking to people, and possibly having more energy than many have in a lifetime is just awesome, if a little brain cobbling for the casual observer.
Oh and the fact we nicknamed him "Kicky".

This blog sounds terribly me-me-me at the minute but I must admit, I hope it means he's "caught" the music gene, because two big lads in the house who couldn't carry a tune in a bucket would probably be the death of me. This flat is *way* too small for tunes that are not meant to be atonal, becoming slowly more atonal over time. This is combined with bizarre timing that results in gradual shortening of a given musical phrase until it's only the "headline" bit of the riff that's suddenly being delivered in 2.5/4 time rather than the 4/4 it started out with. After driving one round the twist. It's like a riff has a half life, gradually losing notes like radium loses electrons...

Duffed no more - eek

Hecky thump I belong to a network!

Duffed no more - Trying to be good...

When pregnant, I realised something awful.  Women are using a very big stick to beat ourselves with (in addition to The Daily Mail doing it for us) in our constant desire to be seen to be "good" when it's all total bollocks. This isn't news, so why the hell do I feel compelled to say it again?

I, for one, didn't sign up for that crap. I also wish I could have believed (I did in my brain, but not really in my gut for quite a while) my friends who said "Trust your own judgement, it's probably pretty sound." about the whole parenting mularky so let's tell the Moaning Minnies and Judgy Joans to do one. I was a child of the 70's and I turned out ok etc etc etc.....obsessive parenting and feeling guilty gets you nowhere and at the end of the day, "good" also doesn't actually mean "perfect".

I declare today (and tomorrow and the day after) to be the time that we try, for a whole 10 minutes at least per day, to not feel fking guilty about something we're doing that *might* tenuously, possibly affect your baby and their development and/or future emotional well-being.

Be loving, be kind, talk, sing about as well as the sad deluded people on X factor,  dance like someone is electrocuting your feet, read to them a bit, remember that cbeebies/formula/playpens are not the work of Satan, say no to everybody once in a while and look after yourself and be kind - to yourself. Happy parents are good parents as a rule - and the chances are that you probably are great at it, and you're a beautiful person. Shut the voices out and tell every negative Nelly to foxtrot oscar for a while - go on, you know you'll enjoy it. x

P.S. everyone benefits...bugger...I'm being positive..."tsk *eye roll*...children"...

Duffed no more - Nothing prepares you for....

The oceans and rivers of snot, the mega tonnes of mucus. I cope just fine with all the other revolting bits but the snot is the one that really makes me gag...and you always end up with the b*stard stuff stuck to you somehow.

BAH!

Duffed no more - The Kraken Wakes - The blog I wish I'd written :)

This blog introduction rocks my socks greatly...

Ever wondered what it's like to be so enraged with other human beings that you form your own gnashing black hole? Well, now you do...

The Kraken Wakes

Kath, I love you. So much of what you say is basically what I want to write before I edit for filth, swearing, over-sharing, potential marital strife and flat out libel. 

Duffed no more - Things what I have learned...episode 1

• that the amount of drooling your child does is inversely proportional to the number of bibs and cloths you've managed to hurridly cram into what shall henceforth be known as "The Changing Bag of Doom". Pick up enough bibs to carpet a tennis court and the little one will remain resolutely non-dribbly/vomity - don't pack enough cloths and bibs and suddenly it's all gone a bit Exorcist. Either that or it looks like Jr. has just been tossed into the nearest river..

Duffers Diary No Longer!

It should be clear by now that I am quite definitely no longer in a duffed state. Nope, it's safe to say that I have proved empirically that I definitely don't have the gestation period of a Manatee. (It's 13 months FYI).

Mini Badger made an appearance mid January and, as is traditional, I've been engulfed by a maelstrom of nappies, boobs, bottles, crying and cooing like the soft sh*te I have discovered myself to be. Suddenly (just as I am on the brink of returning to work, which is a bit of a scunner) I have a baby who has naps and is consistently jolly pleasant whilst awake so I've got a teeny bit of head space. That I'm going to use whittering inconsequentially on the internet. Go me.