And he is doomed

In my quest to get out more and not live like a hermit, I took Rex to the local mother and baby group. It was great, we sat, we chatted, we ate cake; what is not to like?

We came to the part of the session where it was 'song time'. We all gathered in a room and sang the customary nursery rhymes. There was Polly Put the Kettle On, Miss Polly Had a Dolly, Happy and You Know It and The Wheels on the Bus. Rex beamed the whole way through, he was charm personified, there were even giggles.

Then the nice woman organiser announced it was time for the church songs. They started with My God is So Good. Rex started to cry. As soon as we got to Jesus Loves Me, he was in full on scream.

The nice woman announced it was bible story time.

Rex stopped crying.

'Jesus spent 40 long nights...' the woman read.

Rex yawned and went to sleep.

The dirty little heathen.

It is tiring work being a devil child

And so it starts

Rex watched the England game with Steve.

It went something like this:

Steve: We are the ones in white Rexy. Yep. White.

Rex: Oooaahhh.

Steve: No baby boy. Sweden are shit.

Rex: Aaaaooooo.

Steve: I know Rex, that is Joe Hart. Mummy fancies him but then mummy fancies a lot of people.

Rex: Raaaraaa.

Steve: Exactly Rex. That's Ashley Young. He is appalling. What do we say? A-pall-ing.

Rex: Eeeeeeee!

Steve: That is what I said! How he plays for England is beyond me.

Rex: Whurrrrrrrrrrr.

Steve: I know. I may switch over.

Rex: Hic. Hic.

Steve: Now don't be petulant and get the hiccups. This is the start of a long and disappointing road for you. It is the curse of being an England fan.

He was more than a little offended..

I took Rex to the clinic. In theory we are meant to go every week but, since the health visitor stopped visiting us at 6 weeks, I haven't bothered. I am an attentive mother like that.

Anyway, we went. We dutifully lined up and waited. We got to the front where you basically strip your baby and pop them on the scales; it is a dignified activity.

The health visitor, a smiley lady with a singsong voice, looked at the scales:

Health Visitor: So, 13lb 13oz. Let me just write it down on my chart. There. Wait... Tilly is only 3 weeks old...

Me: Umm...

HV: ...and last week she was only 7lb 4oz...

Me: Umm...

HV: ...that is a a 6lb 9oz weight gain in only a week...

Me: Um...

HV: Oh my goodness! What could have caused that weight gain?!

Me: (Looking at naked Rex on the scales) Maybe the penis that 'Tilly' grew in the week..

You remember Alex...

She came up last weekend.

On the train she met a dwarf who was on his way to Market Weighton to star in a horror movie about the life of Jimmy Saville.

Could only happen to her...

How times have changed

The Saturday night before Halloween, Steve went out. He put on real going out clothes, spritzed himself with aftershave and headed into town for the evening.

Me and the baby went to my mum's where we played with everyone and watched the Muppets. If I had been able to have a glass of wine then my evening would have definitely beaten his.

Anyway, around midnight I packed up Rex and our things and bundled him in the car to go home. He was crying, he was tired and cranky. Knowing that a drive in the car very often sends him to sleep, I decided to text Steve and offer to pick him up from wherever he may be.

What can I say, I was feeling brave and daring. In my head I was superwoman with real powers. I mean, I can produce milk to feed a baby so I was obviously capable of driving into town and collecting a tipsy husband.

We set off. All was going well. The baby went to sleep, the roads were clear and, before I knew it, I was turning into the city centre.

It was as I was dodging the drunk people who were falling into the road as the pubs kicked out that the baby woke up. Realising that it was dark and he was not being cuddled or fed, he started to wail. Loudly.

The traffic lights turned red and I stopped. Locking doors so that Halloween revellers couldn't try and get in, I started singing his favourite song 'Joshua Giraffe' at the top of my lungs. His wailing grew louder.

The lights turned green just as I got to the line about Joshua being trapped in a zoo with buffalo poo.

I pulled up on a side road, just by the club that Steve said he was in. I clambered into the back seat to try and comfort the baby while texting Steve to say we were here. He replied saying that they would be 10 minutes.

The baby would not be comforted so I did what has come to be the solution to many problems.

I got my boobs out.

Yep, I decided to feed Mr Rex to shut him up.

So there I was, in the back seat of my car, feeding my 8 week old son at quarter to one in the morning, occasionally being stared at by passing witches, skeletons and bunnies (I know, I was confused too, why would you be a bunny for Halloween?).

It took Steve and his friend Mike another 20 minutes to find us and then I had the fun of driving them home while Mike cooed over the baby in the back.

Damn, I'm a good wife.

Night time

I remember the night as it used to be. It had too forms, occasionally it was a delicious time of drink and dancing, kissing and laughing but mainly it was purely wondrous; sleep and slumber and dreaming and cosying. It was magical.

In later August this, of course, all changed.

This little boy arrived.

And from then on, it became a time of awakeness. Not that I particularly minded, offspring have some sort of power which makes you happy to see their little faces, even at 3am.

As the nights wore on I came up with things to fill the time while the boy was feeding; suduko puzzles failed - too much brain power for that early plus require a light, likewise, reading was not an option.

TV and wandering round the house have become my preferred tactics (mainly the former as it can be done from bed), and, from these activities, I have discovered a multitude of things that I never knew before.

1) Some TV channels still stop broadcasting after about 3am. I know!

2) E4 shows all kinds of wonderful comedies in the middle of the night, back to back Big Bang Theory, old One Tree Hill, The War at Home, Home Improvement and According to Jim.

3) Night time is v v lonely, you will feel that you are the only person in the world so you will look out of the window in the hope of seeing a light on in a house. Instead you will see the swarthy figure of a man walking down your street in a long black coat. You will momentarily feel comforted, 'Hooray! Another human being!', you will think and then you will wonder, what is a man doing walking down your quiet village street at 4am on a Tuesday? He must be a murderer! Or a vampire! Yes, he is definitely a vampire! Vampires always wear long black coats and stride with purpose, you have seen it time and time again on Buffy! You then realise that you are standing gawping at him at a window with only a 9 week old baby for protection, so you duck under the windowsill, waking said baby.

4) They show Monday night American football very early on a Tuesday morning. I like the New England Patriots especially one of their linebackers Dont'a Hightower, mainly for his name.

5) Nothing happens on facebook between 1am and 7am unless it is a Friday or Saturday night, then there will be a flurry of drunken activity around 2.30am.