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When you are: March 2010

31 March 2010

Useful/less products

Having been through all this baby lark once before we know which products worked for us and which didn't. We have bought very little for the second one, but here's one that will be useful for them both.

Your order for Sunshine On Leith (Reissue) - The Proclaimers has been posted.

Brilliant! Can't recommend it enough!

24 March 2010

[2] It's all food, food, food

Day 6 in the Big Brother House. Only because we start at day 0, which is fair enough. And since just before it all started life has been centred around pretty much nothing else but food, at whichever stage in it's journey.

With MOTS (no longer Mother Of The Son, but Mother Of The Sons [a girl would have made her Mother Of The Sprogs!]) going through the backup plan of another section she had strict instructions to eat nothing on the morning of surgery, and drink nothing after 6, no milk, just water, etc etc etc. Needless to say she was a little jealous at me and number 1 son tucking into big bowls of cereal and rubbing our tummies.

It was a hive of activity after that. Dressed, nursery drop-off, then all the pre-op stuff we talked about earlier. Part way through the op MOTS clearly got hungry.

I can smell food

I couldn't, even with a good long sniff. Perhaps the faintest whiff of something cooking, perhaps, but I wouldn't have been willing to confirm it.

I could hear the surgeon behind me chatting away, the clashing of instruments, the suction of he vacuum. Oh, there's that whiff. And then it dawned on me. Hmm, time to keep quiet and not tell MOTS just yet, but that cooking smell is actually her, as the surgeon goes in with the hot irons to stem the bleeding by cauterizing some bits and bobs in there. Perhaps now isn't the time to mention that one. Not when the "cooking" smell is making her more hungry. Later, perhaps.

The poor lass didn't get her tea and toast until quite later on, after I'd dashed home. The order form was in for tea though, which she did enjoy. Don't get the fish though, it's awful.

Number 2 son was more than happy with his booby juice, I'd had a WHSmith special, remember the trauma of trying to work out logistics for feeding Grandparents (and now forgotten what the outcome was).

Friday was harder. Logistically speaking anyway. Grandma and Granda sorted themselves out along with number 1 at lunchtime, Granny & Grandpa had a late one after visiting, I didn't bother, number 2 son had more booby juice. And I let MOTS into the secret that was the cooking smells were the previous day, and having looked at her tea it appeared to me that she was found that prospect more appetising than the hospital fare that had been on her plate.

By Saturday food is starting to settle. MOTS refuses to order tea because she won't be there for it. It came.... we weren't released in time. Granny & Grandpa had a stew on for the big homecoming. Bliss.

Two days after coming home I took MOTS out for lunch. A long lunch, appointment at the registry office, and number 2 slept through it all. I was so pleased at getting out for lunch so early, MOTS deserved it. The coffee and cake in a small coffee shop yesterday went down a treat too! We are so spoiled for coffee out, two already and he's not even a week old!

Since coming home number 2 son has had a little wobble on his fluid intake, so we've hit the bottle for a top-up. Not that it's bothered him in the slightest, he has no bother going between the bottle and breast. Sounds like a great Friday night out to me!

19 March 2010

[2] The first day

As promised, here are the full gory details in glorious technicolor!

Warning - not for the faint-hearted!

The day started out just like any other. Hang on a second, isn't that a line from the musical version of War of the Worlds? Aye, it is, and that's a bit how it was.

The day started out just like any other. Alarm at o six hundred hours (what does the o stand for....?), number one son dropped off at nursery at 7:30, but no train. No train? Nope. Not going to work today.

A breeze of a journey to the hospital, most unusual for that time in a morning. We knew our requested arrival time of 07:30 was out of the question so I rang ahead the previous day. Apparently MOTS was booked in first and they like their first lady in theatre for 08:30. No problem, they said, we'll just switch her round. But clearly emergencies take precedence so it could be later, so bring magazines. Roger that.

Triage, circa 08:20. Checked in. Daddy reaching for the Top Gear magazine. MOTS - "Leave them for when we exhaust conversation, when we get fed up talking to each other". Circa 08:20 and 20 seconds, Daddy reaching for Top Gear magazine. Circa 08:20, 20 seconds a a few nanseconds clip around right ear strikes.

A little over 5 minutes or so passes and MOTS is called by a midwife. Quick chat, short wait, anaesthetist pops in for a chat, short wait, registrar pops in for a chat, short wait couple of med students pop in for a chat and to ask to take some tissue samples for a study, midwife for theatre pops in and oh and they are waiting in theatre, everyone's ready - except us.

And then we got hit by that great big avalanche. The pit of the stomach fell (it does have a long way to go), bounced off the floor and got wedged somewhere in the back of my throat. Which is just as well because it prevented the vocalisation of the thoughts running through my mind in that split second. Started with the pre-amble to six hundred hours from earlier, and ended with something that rhymes with book.

Oh well, time to limber up and think about getting into some fetching green gowns, eh? At this stage MOTS was already in her standard issue stuff.

Upstairs we went. A quick loo trip. The last I saw of MOTS was her heading to the loo. By the time I came out she'd gone, and I wash ushered into the changing room to get into my gown. Hmm, sexy. No pictures, the midwife did threaten, but didn't follow through. I liked her.

Mots wasn't just getting prepared when I got in, a little further on by the time I got sent back for the camera I'd already turned a bag inside out for, Hmm, wrong bag. How many f'ing bags do you need??? Music was a little slow and dreary, the theatre nurse suggested something more upbeat.

When you go, will you send back, a letter from America...

Oh no, we're not having another baby born to the fucking proclaimers are we? Oh yes you are....

Spinal block in, surgeon does a roll call, last check - MOTS' name and date of birth. Check. Everybody's happy, all permissions granted, got the OK from the pain doctor, all systems go.

And I would walk five hundred miles

No, no, please no. "OK, is this standard issue", I enquired. Then out came a frame, a hibbies shirt, some notes, and the rules of "3" for surgery.

  • 3 mls
  • 3 pillows
  • 3 words - "Sunshine on Leith"

I don't think you're meant to be in hysterics when your wife's lying on the table cut wide open. Some might consider it bad form.

It was very very different this time. Chat was jovial, mood was light, among the staff it was just another day in the office. Forgetting why we were there for a second, we were brought back to reality very very quickly when...


What on earth is that? Oh, that'll be our son! Reality hit with the force of an atom bomb - we weren't there for the chat, we were there to have a baby. Immediate cry, followed by "congratulations you have a boy". Talking later MOTS has a split second warning because she felt him being lifted out just before he cried, other than that we were given no indication from the surgeon that she was about to lift him out. He wasn't wrinkled like number 1 son, or grey. The extra 13 days clearly helped him get ready.

I got whisked out into the resuscitation room for photos and to be with him while he got cleaned up. And he managed to drench the midwife with his fireman's hose - twice. That was magical, being there for that. And bringing our son back to meet his Mummy properly. Once she was stitched up and moved onto the bed I passed him over, her first cuddle.

The first of many they both got yesterday.

18 March 2010

[2] Two boys!

Full post to follow in due course, just a quick one before I head off to bed after a long hard day doing nothing, chilling, and listening to The Proclaimers. Again. Five hundred miles later...

We have another baby boy! And for those who voted in favour of a girl, all I can say is "LOSERS!" Oh, yeah, the details:

Weighing in at 3.600kg (that's 7lb 15oz in old money) Alex Callum made his entrance into the world at 10:16 this morning. All he'd done since is eat, sleep and cry (quantities in that order, and not much in the crying department). Baby and Mummy both fine and doing very well. #2 has beaten his older brother in his first tests, APGAR results in at 9 & 9. 10 tiny fingers, ten tiny toes, and two huge boy bits. Another chip off the old block!

Big brother adores him already, desperately wants him to come home. Hopefully for the weekend!

17 March 2010

[2] The penultimate day

With all the possible scenarios, and the worry about the logistics of looking after number 1 son, MOTS has hung on to the point neither of us ever thought we'd see. 5 days overdue.

From the outset there was always going to be a fear of the same happening again - screaming baby, there was hope for a puppy but that faded fast after the first trimester. And that was the hormone drip she had when she was induced last time. That goes near her and my fists come near the doctor who recommends it. Hmm, the caveman protection bit aside, it's not going to go down that route.

When the obstetrician booked her in for a section it came out of the blue. That wasn't how that particular meeting had gone. Manchester United vs Charlton Athletic. 90 minutes of Rooney & co running rings around a poor Charlton side (down to 9 men due to dodgy refereeing decisions) and in the 92nd minute Man U concede a goal. Nobody saw it coming, it was wholly against the run of play. So we're booked in then. Hmm, not what we expected at the end of that meeting, but the chances it won't be needed.

And here we are, the day before that booking. And now we do need it. Two hot curries and two membrane sweeps, jiggling, strolling, running around after number 1 - nothing has got things going. And so it's off to theatre tomorrow morning. We'll be late arriving, so MOTS has been bumped from first slot to second slot, hopefully we'll be done in time for me to catch a lunchtime trip to Mickey D's. Or perhaps not!

For certain this is our last night as parents of one. Tomorrow we will have another bundle of joy. I have taken the opportunity presented by my son and enjoyed my last night with the only child (soon to be older brother) reading in his bed. Normality, but really enjoyable normality.

The downside to hanging on this long will be the stay in hospital, which MOTS is not looking forward to at all. The focus hereonin is getting out, getting home, where she will have 24x7 care. At this stage the younger sibling is a matter of consequence, but this will all change once upon a safe arrival.

Here's "dad of one" signing off now. Tomorrow I'll be signing on as "dad of two" after my newspaper article style categorisation changes.

12 March 2010


The deadline looms. And nothing's happening. Yet.

At most we have less than a week to wait now. Unfortunately, it's a bit longer for "Mummy's new car coming, Mummy's new car black". Number 1 has the new car thing well and truly sorted in his head, but just doesn't talk about the fact his life as he currently knows it is about to be turned upside down.

Mind you, neither do we. We are in denial too, so we can't expect anything else from our son.

05 March 2010

Security issue at home

Due to a security issue at home I have had to change all the passwords for external access. That includes:

  • The cameras
  • The two online photo albums

I'm not even going to try and remember who has access to them, so if you come a cropper logging in just email me for the new details.

04 March 2010

[2] Scores on the doors

The votes are counted, the lines are closed. Please do not call now as you may still be charged but your vote will not be counted.

82% say it's a girl, 18% a boy, and funnily enough only I think it could be a puppy. Results coming soon...

03 March 2010

Some things he gets, others he doesn't

With the Focus shifting... right, I can't finish the sentence that was going through my head now that I typed an upper case F there! As I was trying to say, with the focus shifting from number 1 to number 2 quite a lot recently, we can't forget what our little boy has been taking in. And while I started out saying "with the Focus shifting" obviously meaning the car, I got muddled. but they are linked, honestly! Time to straighten my mind out...

Some things he's not getting. Well, one thing really. And that's toilet. We can have great days at home, then nightmares at school and nursery. I'm convinced it's down to being too worried about leaving what he's doing to take the time out. Which means he's bored at home. No bad thing really.

Then other things just click.

"Where's Mummy's car?"
"Mummy's car gone. New one coming, Mummy's new car black"
Spot on! And show him a picture of a Qashqai, in any colour, and it's Mummy's new car. Only once has he been told all of this, so how come it takes a count of three and a threat of bed (followed through twice this week) for being told to come and take his shoes and jacket off when we get home?

We just can't afford a new Nissan every time we need him to register with something!

[2] Deadlines passing

We've had a couple of dealines pass us by recently, with hardly a second thought on them from me. MOTS, on the other hand, has given them some cranium time. And those are:

School year: No longer will number 2 start school in 2014, the cut-off passed a few days ago. Will now be a 2015 starter for certain.
Birthday: As her birthday looms, will she be x or will she be x+1? Well, that now x+1 too.

x: Random number between old and really old.

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