No more zombies for me

Driving home from town today, I was thinking how motherhood has changed me. Of course, it could simply be that I'm a few years older, but without children I probably would not have the uncontrollable impulse to shout "Moo Cow!" every time we pass a herd.

Prior to Baby Badger I was pretty child-phobic but now they seem to flock to me... and I don't mind! (Most of my friends would fall over backwards in surprise at this.) I find myself playing with them at children's centres, keeping an eye out in case they tumble, worrying about their teeth when I see them toddling round with a bottle of Ribena.

Films, television shows and books that depict suffering of children, physically or mentally, would in the past have tugged at my heart strings but it would have passed as I knew it was fiction. Now I feel as though my heart is being wrenched from my chest.

It's not just my feelings about children that have changed though. I used to love a good gory horror story. I now cannot watch zombie films; struggle with anything horrific that could be possible under human nature, although interestingly I can cope with vampires and werewolves - obviously far enough removed from reality for me to cope.

I'm guessing the old me won't be coming back, but I don't think it's such a bad thing.

Image courtesy of dan / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Flip the birdie

A random photo from earlier this month: this is what Badger Cub has to say to anyone that doesn't like breastfeeding in public...!

Enough is enough (aka never say never)

We are a family of four. Father Badger, Baby Badger (age three), Badger Cub (almost six months) and myself. Mum & Dad with son & daughter. We are complete. My pregnancies were far from hard, and my labours short, but quite frankly I'm 36 years old and done with baby making.

Father Badger knows this and hasn't raised any objections, although he always jokes that we should have two and a spare. I sold all my maternity gear on Ebay as soon as my postpartum belly had shrunk enough not to need it, just to make sure my position was clear.

I'm halfway through my second twelve month stint of maternity leave, returning to work in January. Luckily we can afford the childcare for two, but three would probably cripple us, plus my career in IT would probably not survive another baby. The grandparents (who currently lend a lot of practical support) are in their mid sixties, so will be mid seventies by the time Badger Cub goes to secondary school.

I'm done. Really. So why is a part of me not done? A little voice keeps whispering in my head.

Maybe menopause is approaching and Mother Nature is sounding the alarm. (Awooga awooga, time is running out.)

I've sold my maternity clothes as I won't be needing them. (After all, you are losing weight so you'll need a smaller size next time.)

Should I save the cosleeper crib for my friend or should we sell it? (Or maybe keep it for number three...)

Is this normal?

Image courtesy of Salvatore Vuono / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Liebster again!

The lovely Rhia over at Virtual Rhiality has tagged me for the Liebster Award. Like her, I have been tagged before, but the award has evolved somewhat since I received it last time as now I've got to 'fess up facts and ask questions! I' scraping the bottom of the barrel this time having already spilled the beans on these seven things and another ten!

How does the Liebster award now work? I tell you 11 random facts about me, pose 11 questions and then tag 11 bloggers with less than 400 followers (although how I work that out I don't know) to answer those questions. I also have to answer the questions Rhia posed to me!

11 Answers

1. What is your favourite book or author? Currently Ian Rankin - I'm working my way through all the Rebus books.
2. What is your favourite type of cake? Chocolate. Sticky gooey chocoolate fudge cake. Mmm...
3. What's the one thing you love that most people you know hate or dislike? I honestly can't think of anything. Maybe that's because I'm surrounded by people with similar interests in life, or at least people that don't hate the things I love. The closest would be jazz - I like it whereas Father Badger would rather stick pins in his eyes.
4. Favourite sandwich? Chicken, bacon and avocado.
5. Favourite childhood toy? Lego. None of the fancy themed stuff you get nowadays, just good old fashioned bricks you can use your imagination with.
6. Favourite colour? Purple.
7. If you could invent one thing to make your life easier what would it be? Detachable boobs so I could get someone else to feed Badger Cub but without him losing the comfort factor.
8. If you could learn one new skill/language/craft etc what would it be? Willpower. That's a skill, isn't it? Willpower to get fit and healthy.
9. If you were a superhero what would your power/name be? Captain Obsessive. Everything in its place, especially those darned apostrophes.
10. If  you had a whole day to yourself & loads of money; where would you go? What would you do? I can't believe I'm saying this as I'm not really girly: a really nice spa by myself where I'd get a massage and pampering, lovely food and good magazines.
11. If you could achieve one thing this year what would it be? Become a shadow of my former self: finish my year of maternity leave in the best physical form of my adult life.

11 Random Facts

1. I played in my college ladies football team with two years in goal. Ladies' football at that level (i.e. enthusiastic but generally unskilled) is definitely not non-contact, and I once ended up with a boot imprint including studs in my stomach.
2. During my third year at Durham University I lived yards away from the cathedral, whose bells toll every fifteen minutes 24 hours a day. You don't hear them after a while, unless you're having trouble sleeping in which case you lie awake waiting for each one...
3. I am a trained breastfeeding peer supporter.
4. The house where I grew up (which is round the corner from where I live now) still has a dent in the garage door from when I learnt to ride a bike. I was a bit slow learning how to use the brakes.
5. I work in IT but have no interest in computer games, which is somewhat of a rarity.
6. I don't do heels. I appreciate many of them as elegant works of art, but I have no intention of putting myself through the torture of wearing them. I even got married in jewel-encrusted birkenstocks.
7. We've lived in our house for almost six years but have not yet unpacked all of the boxes. I have a suspicion that some of those boxes were also not unpacked in our previous house where we lived for five years. Just think of all the treasure there may be to find!
8. I hold music grades in five instruments: grade 8 trumpet and tenor horn, grade 4 piano, grade 3 trombone and grade 2 violin. I suspect the violin was the most painful experience for my parents.
9. I am a confirmed sci fi geek: Star Trek (all series), Battlestar Galactica (old and new), Doctor Who, Babylon Five.
10. I once built a brick barbeque in the garden. My bricklaying skills are poor and it was more functional with a slight tilt rather than attractive. Thankfully that was in our last house and someone else now gets to look at it.
11. Baths bore me. They seem like a good idea at the time but then you get in and there's no entertainment and it gets cold. Maybe someone could invent a bath that keeps the water hot?

11 Questions

1. Marmite - love it or hate it?
2. Which three famous people or celebrities would you like to spend an evening at the pub with and why (or afternoon at a coffee shop if you'd prefer)?
3. What sort of cook are you? Do you follow recipes, throw things together or phone for takeaway?
4. Which living person do you most admire, and why?
5. What was you favourite childhood television series?
6. What is your dream holiday destination or activity?
7. Tea or coffee?
8. What is your ideal comfort food?
9. What is your favourite item of jewellery?
10. Are you girly or a tomboy?
11. For what are you most grateful?

Time to tag...

I'm going to go with some lovely Tweeps I recently added to my Twitter list:

1. The Last Girl In Love over at The Last Girl in Love Blog
2. The Strolling Mum over at Can I Walk Mummy?
3. Stephanie Siviter over at The Confinement Chronicles
4. Sue over at Simply a Mummy
5. Jamie over at One Man and a Wee Bairn
6. Dinky Thinks over at the Dinky Thinks blog
7. Bianca over at Richmond Mummy
8. Ericka over at Mum in the South
9. Claire over at Diary of the Evans-Crittens
10. Emily over at Tealady Mumbles
11. MrsTutey over at Up, down, round & round

Goodbye

When I was young, perhaps three or four years old, my grandad died of a heart attack. I don't remember much about it other than suddenly spending a lot of time at my grandma's house. I now know that it was because my Mum had to sort out everything for my grandma - everything had been in his name and she hadn't a clue what to do, obviously compounded by the grief over his sudden death. Once everything had been sorted, the funeral done, she moved from their home in Essex to a cottage in Oxfordshire, in the village where I lived with my parents.

Soon after that I started primary school and my Mum retrained as a teacher. My grandma collected me from school every day and looked after me until my Mum got home (my Dad was often working abroad and then later did shift work). She became almost a second mother, in my life on almost a daily basis, always around to talk to, never judgmental, always proud of me.

A few years ago we realised she was becoming more forgetful and it was confirmed that she was showing the early stages of dementia. Conversations became repeated, and she became less interested in making decisions for herself, but the essence of who she was, her sense of humour and her kindness, remained. From what I know of the disease, we were very fortunate - many sufferers become disoriented and confused, sometimes even violent. We kept her in her own home for as long as we could but a couple of years ago, shortly after her ninetieth birthday, we moved her into a residential home for her own safety - it's impossible to teach someone with no short term memory how to cope with new situations around their own increasing physical frailty.

We celebrated her 92nd birthday a few weeks ago. She enjoyed having lunch out with us, and met Badger Cub. I noticed that she wasn't engaging in conversation as much as previously but still seemed happy.

I had a call from my parents this morning. They had been called to the residential home at 3am. Grandma was having difficulty breathing. My parents were at her side, talking to her. Her breathing became more laboured, but she continued to acknowledge them and the staff, smiling. She slipped away peacefully at 6am.

I am grateful that she died in her own bed. I am grateful that she died peacefully, without pain. I am grateful that she believed, even though I do not, that she was passing to a better place and would have comfort from it. I am grateful that she died with her daughter at her side, and more importantly that dementia had not taken away her ability to recognise her daughter. I am truly grateful that her body failed, gracefully, before her mind did.

Goodbye Grandma. I love you very much and will miss you.

Image: Graeme Weatherston / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

It's time for some good luck

It's been a rough few weeks. I'm no longer wallowing in self pity like I was last week, but things have definitely been better.

As mentioned before, my employer is going through a redundancy exercise, and two weeks later and we're still none the wiser over who is at risk (and unlikely to find out for another couple of weeks). The uncertainty is hard to deal with and I've not been sleeping well because of it. I've also been sharing the various colds that Baby Badger has brought back from nursery.

Father Badger is going through some stressful times at work (not redundancy). He's also having a spell of bad luck health-wise: over the last three weeks he's had mumps, a series of nasty colds and has now hurt his achilles tendon, so he's not his usual cheerful self.

Add into the mix the daily trips we've been taking to the county hospital to see my grandmother - she had a fall and my parents are abroad, but thankfully she returned home to her sheltered accommodation yesterday - and you can see that it's been a pretty exhausting few weeks.

This wasn't, however, meant to be a whinge, particularly as I'm aware that even with all of this added together I'm still very lucky to be in the life I am in. What it has highlighted to me is just how much Father Badger and I support each other when we're going through a bad patch. It's been highlighted as we're unfortunate both to be a bit blue and we've been struggling to be that rock of stability for each other - I honestly think it's taken its toll in terms of our mood & outlook on life, and maybe even slowed down our recovery rate from the various sniffles.

It's time that luck turned around for us. We are going to beat the colds. Work will pick up for both of us, and I'm not going to worry about the redundancy unless it happens (although I may well be uploading my CV to a couple of sites, best to be prepared and all that). Positive thinking all the way.

Image: Cecelia / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Where did Autumn go?

It's glorious weather, isn't it? An Indian summer! We should all take advantage of it while we can!

I hate this weather. I don't tan. I burn, come out in a rash and eventually get blisters. If I go out in this kind of weather I either have to cover up from head to toe (hot) or lather myself in sunblock (icky). Yes I am being grumpy, so there.

Weekends are precious free time and I'm wasting that time because I'm hot and lethargic, and I don't want to go out. Because it's late in the year, by the time it's a sensible temperature outside it'll be getting dark. Yes, I am moaning.

Don't tell me I'll miss it when the clouds and rain arrive. I'll stick on my waterproofs and go frolic in the cool fresh air.

Am I the only one that feels this way?!

Image: tungphoto / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I'm stupidly proud of myself

Arachnophobia. A great film to the majority of you, spawn of nightmares to me.

When Father Badger and I started dating he used to rescue me from the giant black spiders in my flat, of which I seemed to get scores every autumn. The moment I spotted one I would drop the biggest pyrex bowl that owned over the top of it from as far away as I could get and still reach, then I would phone him to come and release it outside. My hero!

Ten years later he's still doing it, only I don't have to trap them under a bowl as he's close enough to catch them himself before they get away, and that's very important: once I've seen a spider I can't forget about it, and I'm not staying in a room where one is lurking (at least not with my feet on the floor).

I am desperate not to pass on my phobia to Baby Badger: I know it is irrational, there's no reason for her to be scared and also if she's scared, I'll have to rescue her from them! I've been very brave so far and managed not to squeal in front of her.

This morning I surpassed myself, and this is why I am so proud of myself: I caught this whopper in the kitchen, calmly and without a whimper, and put it out the front door. Get me...

Flying Solo

I've been worrying about this weekend for a little while. It's my first go at flying solo overnight. Two nights and three days, to be precise. Father Badger is at the other end of the country for a long weekend, which leaves me in charge overnight for the first time with Baby Badger since those early few days in hospital, and I had NHS staff to help back then! I had visions of a baby that didn't want to sleep, of screaming fits (baby), of gradual meltdown (me)...

So far, it seems, I had nothing to worry about. Yesterday we did Sainsbury shopping in the morning (trolley rides are so exciting) followed by a chat and a cuppa with some of my NCT friends and their babies. Dinner was home made pizza with olives on it: Baby Badger ate all the olives, demanding to steal them off my slices! Today started with a nice walk over the hills with baby on my back in my Ergo followed by lunch with my parents. Baby Badger then went to my mother in law for the afternoon whilst I went to the theatre daahhrling where she had a second lunch! I think she must have worn herself out playing because she was ready for bed soon after we got home!

Assuming we get through tonight unscathed, I've just got tomorrow to get through and I'm looking forward to it. I feel like supermum.

Image: www.ergobabycarrier.com

I think I need to get a life

Since Baby Badger arrived I've had an intimate relationship with our washing machine. It's an old friend, having given us almost twelve years of service (albeit with four new pumps). I'd been in denial for a while: I thought maybe its spin cycle was getting tired in old age, but no... Last weekend I admitted to myself that its pump had gone again and the washing was actually sitting in water that hadn't pumped away after accumulated cycles. Eeuwww.

After a serious conversation with Father Badger, we decided that euthanasia was the only option and ordered a new machine to be delivered a couple of days later. In a fit of inspiration after moving old faithful onto the patio, I decided this would be the time to lift the manky old torn lino in the utility room and put down some brand spanking new vinyl tiles. Off I went to the DIY store, bought the tiles, came back and pulled up the lino, and this is what I was faced with...

Musty, damp concrete that vinyl tiles will not stick to in a month of Sundays. That left me feeling slightly less inspired.

So why do I need to get a life? Firstly that the thought of laying vinyl tiles really made me happy. Really. Secondly that faced with said concrete I spent several hours on the internet looking for ways to enable me to lay my lovely new tiles before the replacement machine arrived the following morning. (I failed to devise a plan. In case you were interested...) Thirdly that I am in love with the new machine. It's programmmable (I'm in IT and that really floats my boat), it's quiet and it has a spin cycle to die for. Ahem.

Time on your side that will never end

I was driving back from rehearsal tonight and found myself singing along to the radio... Oh my God I can't believe it, I've never been this far away from home"... I identified that I knew the tune and words because of Lily Allen, but it certainly wasn't her singing. I mentally listed all the bands I thought it could be and guessed The Kaiser Chiefs which, as I've discovered via the power of Google, was correct.

This isn't about a pat on the back for my musical knowledge, surprised as I am at getting it right. It set me thinking about how out of date I am with music today, and how old that makes me feel! I have a vague feeling that something from X Factor or Pop Idol got the last Christmas number one, but I couldn't swear by it or even name the contenders. I have no idea what is in the charts at the moment. The last couple of gigs I went to were Morcheeba and Sisters of Mercy (yes, I know that's a bit of a contrast...). What happened to me...?!

I guess it's time to find something other than Absolute 80s radio to listen to. Any suggestions on a crash course in modern music?!

Image: anankkml / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Reasons to be Cheerful: sleep, splashes and family time

I thought it was about time I joined in with Michelle's Reasons to be Cheerful blog hop, especially considering what a lovely week we've had.

Father Badger has been off work since last Thursday, taking advantage (as millions of other people have) of the extra bank holiday to get lots of time off work for minimal annual leave. A full seventeen days as a family! It really has been lovely to spend so much time together, even if a lot of it has been spent catching up with jobs around the house. We've had a day out in Bath shopping, we've spent hours doubled over holding Baby Badger's hands while she walks around, we've spent time with family and gone on walks. I really don't want it to end after the bank holiday.

Today we went swimming, all three of us. It's the first time we've taken Baby Badger to a swimming pool. I know this is rather late in the day at almost eleven months old, but for months she hated baths and my reasoning was that if I couldn't keep her in a bath for more than thirty seconds without screaming, attempting a swimming pool was not going to be a winner. She loved it! Our local pool has a beach effect where it starts incredibly shallow and gradually gets to a depth for swimming. We spent the first ten minutes or so sitting in the shallows while she splashed and gradually went deeper. She was pretty happy being pulled forward on her tummy with my hands under her arms, not at all keen on going onto her back, however she was supported, and forgave me for dunking her under four times!

I decided a little while ago that I would like her to be in her own room by the time I go back to work in June. She'll be a year old and doesn't seem to need night feeds any more, and I think we'll all sleep better - we won't need to tiptoe, we won't wake her up turning over in bed, and I'll probably sleep better too. Last night we had her in her big girl room for the first time. How did it go? She slept soundly from 11 until our alarm went off at 7am. Hooray! I wonder if she'll do it again tonight...?

To believe or not to believe

A few days ago I came across a post by Bethan (no Y) regarding religion and her journey to find religion. Did she find it? Go read her post and find out... It got me thinking about my own struggles with faith.

I was brought up in a Christian family. My father's family are Catholic, with several priests in the family. My mother's family are Methodist. I chose to be baptised in the Church of England, presumably because it was familiar: both my primary and the local church are C of E. I went to sunday school and later church student group, and sang in the chapel choir at University.

Father Badger is firmly atheist. Not agnostic (i.e. not bothered, no firm beliefs) but militantly atheist: he firmly believes in no higher power, and he thinks that organised religion is a cause of evil in humanity. To an extent I sympathise with him: there have been many atrocities committed in the name of one faith or another; tribes and peoples are at war because of conflicting faiths. I do however think that if religion was not available to justify these actions, another basis would be chosen: race, colour or similar.

We were married in church, in the village where I grew up. This may seem hypocritical, especially when I say that my faith was already wavering. The vicar was fully aware that Father Badger was not religious, but said he did not see it as a problem as long as the vows were taken with the right intentions and that he was comfortable saying them in church. It was important to me to marry there, mainly because I see that church and its congregation as the centre of my community and upbringing and full of many people that mean a lot to me.

Over the last few years I have become gradually more aware, and recently consciously admitted to myself, that I don't believe in god. I can't pinpoint when it happened, and I'm not even sure if I ever did - I can't think of a moment in the past where I passionately believed, although I must have at some point. I can't see how a god could allow wars, famine, disease. There is no grand plan, no reason for everything. I do however think that church can be a great strength in the community, and provides a good set of morals for bringing up children.

The agreement I have with Father Badger is that Baby Badger must be brought up respecting other people's beliefs, be that in a god or in nothing. I want her to go to church occasionally so she understands her family background, but it's her choice when she's older as to whether she becomes involved or not.

My biggest problem with the lack of faith is guilt. My father is definitely not a believer any more, a result of deployment to war zones with the RAF, but my mother is still firmly Christian. I know she will be devastated if she finds out that I have no faith, and I really don't want to hurt her in this way, but I also don't want to live a lie. My way of dealing with this is to turn up to church on important occasions by way of it being a family event, but I don't read the prayers aloud and I abstain from communion. One day, though, she's going to ask me a question that I can't sidestep and the emotional car crash will occur.

Do you struggle with a similar dilemma? How do you deal with having different beliefs to your family? Have you had the conversation I dread, and how did it go?

Image: nuchylee / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I got the Liebster Award!

I was reading through the comments on my last Silent Sunday post, and amongst the cries of "Yummy!" (it was a picture of chocolate truffles, guaranteed to get your tummy rumbling), I spotted a comment from the lovely TracyT over at Beads, Paper, Glue passing me the Liebster award!

This is an award for the little blogs (less than 300 followers). The rules are:

1. Post displaying the award, linking back to the person who awarded you.
2. Choose your own blog picks and let them know they’re been given the award .
3. Hope everyone discovers some new favourites.
4. Revel in the blog love!

I found these lovely blogs and have sent them on the award:

• MammyWoo
• Whimsical Wife
• Making it up

Why not pop over and take a look...?

Where's the romance, the love?

My local commercial radio station is running a competition: 2 Strangers & A Wedding. The station launched a campaign to find a single woman interested in finding the man of her dreams, and is now looking for a man for her. In April they are to marry at the Oxford Malmaison and honeymoon in Mallorca. This may be sounding like the dream wedding package to some of you, but here's the catch: the couple will not meet until their wedding day.

I haven't paid enough attention to the competition to know the intricate details, but a couple of things immediately  spring to mind... They're not going to meet?! The entire competition from the applications to the actual wedding is only two months, so even via exposure in the radio station they'll barely know each other. What if there's no spark? Worse still, what if there's a spark on one side and not the other? The terms and conditions require the applicants to disclose any criminal convictions, but what if one of them is a nutter!

Local clergy have objected on the grounds that this makes a mockery of the sanctity of marriage. I can see why they are upset, although my agnosticism means I'm not that bothered. I do worry that it makes a mockery of the level of personal commitment that marriage implies. The couple will be taking vows that they have no ability to commit to: how can they promise their lives to a complete stranger?

There has been a lot of discussion on the station's website. Some have compared it to arranged marriages. I think this is different: although arranged marriages have had bad press, there are some that are successful. These successful ones are where the parents have chosen carefully knowing their daughter or son's personality and outlook on life. This radio station cannot possibly think their panel (combined with the infinite wisdom of their listeners) are capable of making a good match?

In my eyes this is simply a competition to win a free holiday to Mallorca with an "interesting twist". What do you think?

Image: Sharron Goodyear / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

It's the end of the world as we know it...

Life is about to change.

Baby Badger has always been happiest on her feet. From the age of about four months, if tears began they could be averted for a good ten minutes by simply putting her on her feet with some support under the arms, and she'd look beamingly happy; so proud of herself. That hasn't changed.

I've been wondering when she'd start to crawl. She hates tummy time, with a maximum tolerance of about two minutes (with 15 seconds being the average). Part of me has been willing her to figure it out so that she's less frustrated (and, I admit, because I spend most of my day picking her up and moving her between places). The other part of me has been relieved that I can put her down somewhere and know she's not going to be getting the bleach out from under the sink if I look away.

It's all changed. No - she's still not crawling, and not looking as though she's going to any time soon. She's worked out how to get onto her feet all on her own and cruise the furniture. Oh boy!

I'm off to baby proof every edge, corner and cupboard (whilst whistling that fine R.E.M. tune)...

Image: TCJ2020 / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

An interesting (if chilly) week

We all have one. A task that really needs to be done, but somehow seems less urgent than the rest of the items on your list, so it sinks further down the list, into obscurity. To be honest, I've got many such tasks, such as "stop eating cake", "get some exercise", "clean the bathroom"...! The task that was put off until this week, and really shouldn't have been, was to service the boiler.

You just jumped to a conclusion, didn't you? Actually, it didn't break. I finally got my arse in gear and booked a service. Dodgy Geezer & son (no, that's not their trading name, and it's probably a little unfair of me) turned up as arranged on Monday afternoon and took a mere fifteen minutes to drink their coffee, take the front cover off our four year old boiler and tell me that they had switched it off and it was too dangerous to switch back on again. Not a good moment, especially with minus four degrees forecast for overnight. Dodgy (again, unfair of me, but he did have that slightly Grant Mitchell look about him) made some calls and came up with a price to fit a new one, and we spent the next couple of days getting quotes, hoping the price would come down to something a little less startling, which of course it didn't.

In the meantime, we've been living an adjusted lifestyle. We do (thank goodness!) have a wood burner in the living room, so each evening we've been huddled round a roaring fire: quite nice actually even if it is a bit of a bugger to light. [On a side note, those bags of logs you get from petrol stations are rubbish - have they never heard of seasoning logs so that they are dry enough to burn? Bah!] We've used the temperature in the kitchen as an excuse for two takeaway dinners! At the end of each evening I've had a brief foray into the kitchen to microwave a heatpad for the cat basket (for two very disgruntled moggies), then it's a mad dash up to the bedroom, hoping that the plug-in radiator has done its job.

It's been a bit like camping, only without the fresh air and baked beans, plus Baby Badger has been back in our bed as we didn't know how cold the room would get, so we've not been able to pull the covers up to our noses like we'd have liked... brrrr...!

As of 4pm this afternoon we have a new boiler, hot water and central heating. I even took my jumper off this evening. What luxury! I'm now looking forward to a lovely night's sleep (other than the inevitable night feeds), taking advantage of the space in bed without baby, all the covers... mmmm.

Oh yes, and I've made a note in my calendar to book a boiler service next March. Not going to get caught out by this one again!

Image: kongsky / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Messin' with his head!

Father Badger and I have rather different ideas on how to dress Baby Badger.

I'm not an obsessive about dressing her as a pretty little baby girl, in fact so many people think she's a boy I must be aiming more towards the tomboy end of the scale. I'm learning that convention states that all baby girls wear pink. If a baby is not in pink, it must be a boy. What a load of tosh...

Actually, pink is not that difficult. We were lucky enough to have three sacks full of clothes handed to us by my best friend: her sister has a girl a year older than Baby Badger. Apparently she was dressed head to toe in pink, with a smattering of lilac. I put my anti-pink tendencies aside and was thankful for the vast quantity of free clothing; after all, babies grow out of stuff so quickly.

Luckily, Father Badger's cousin also gave us her son's clothes and, unsurprisingly, there's not an ounce of pink in there. That has allowed me temper the pinkness: pink shirt and black dungarees, pink shirt and jeans, blue shirt and pink dungarees; you get the pattern... We've also supplemented with extras, such as bright stripy tights, cardigans and coats.

Father Badger has required some training. Firstly that tights do not go on the outside of sleepsuits: I guess having not worn tights himself it's a forgiveable mistake... Secondly that if you put denim dungarees on top of a sleepsuit (especially one that's on the large side) you end up with a baby that cannot bend its limbs, michelin man style. I'm fighting a losing battle with the aesthetic elements. Father Badger considers her to be coordinated if he matches the patterns on the items of clothing, resulting in the odd migraine inducing combination of differently striped tights, trousers and top, or polka dots in pink, red and green.

Today I messed with his head and put her in spotty top and stripey trousers in matching two shades of purple, which broke his rules but met mine. I think she looks gorgeous, girly and not a drop of pink anywhere to be seen!

Badger eats giraffe

Today is the second day Father Badger has been ill. He has that horrible stomach bug that seems to be doing the rounds. Baby Badger and I seem to have escaped... Crossing my fingers...

On a purely selfish note, I'm exhausted. Father Badger hasn't been able to help so I've been pretty much flying solo for 48 hours, and Baby Badger is teething. It has not been relaxing.

One thing helps - good old Sophie the Giraffe. Baby Badger has been chewing her head so hard she squeaks!

Image: www.sophielagirafe.co.uk

Totally in love

I'm not usually soppy, in fact Father Badger would say in no uncertain terms that he was the romantic half of the relationship. I am, however, totally in love again, this time with a little creature that screams at me, nips at me and covers me with snot and milk (and other more noxious substances). Funny, huh?

Baby Badger is now four and a half months old, and it's fascinating to watch how she is changing, it seems at an ever increasing rate. She is more alert and interested in the world around her: although she is not yet crawling, she loves to hear and watch other more mobile babies. She has developed an amusing but possibly unhealthy interest in Strictly Come Dancing. I'm assuming it's the brightly coloured and sequined frocks, but maybe she's simply destined for the quick step.

She knows who I am! She smiles when she sees me, her eyes light up, and Father Badger swears she even recognises my footsteps in the hall. I appreciate it's probably because she knows where dinner comes from, but it still brings the love flooding out of me, even if she kept me up all the previous night. For the record, she definitely does know where dinner comes from: when hungry she fixes her gaze firmly on my shirt and if in reach tries to pull my clothes out of the way.

She is becoming quite cheeky. Yesterday evening she finished feeding, clamped her gums down on my nipple and shook her head a la Jack Russell! Needless to say, I yelled "Ouch!" and she detached then looked directy at me and grinned. Twice she latched back on and did it again! I think this is a game I won't be encouraging...

Image: graur razvan ionut / FreeDigitalPhotos.net