Well that was 2007 - almost. I started the year at the Fireballs in Stonehaven, and will end it in the same place.
In between, myself and MTB have managed to create Bubs, currently a 21 week old kicking thing that's about 10 and a half inches long (from crown to foot - no longer do we measure to the rump), nearly 1lb in weight and with ickle fingernails all of its own, and who can hear all our conversations - even if (s)he can't understand them all yet.
That said, it has been alleged that I don't fully always comprehend what MTB is trying to tell me - first time anyway!
Our next milestone is 7 January, when we are back for a scan to check heart chambers and valves - but no pistons though apparently. MTB says she feels Bubs moving about quite a lot now, although I haven't felt anything yet externally.
MTB is also full of the cold just now, whnich is a real shame seeing as she's allowed A paracetomol only, and nothing stronger. If this carries on much longer, I can see her first words after giving birth not being "Hello little one" or something equally poignant, but rather "Gimme a dose of Night Nurse - NOW!", seeing as the poor thing just can't sleep at all very well.
I think our dog is also suffering too. She seems to have a runny nose, and is flatulating (is that a word?) her way around the house just now. I know from May there will be lots of gutteral smells, but please, not before.
As for New Year's resolutions, I am going to be the best hubbie and dad I can be, and I'm going to shift some weight, and pass my exams at work.
Have a great Hogmanay, or whatever you call it from wherever you're reading this from. Come midnight, I'll be cold, wet, stone cold sober and yet really looking forward to our best year ever. Vive 2008!
Monday 31 December 2007
Friday 21 December 2007
It's definitely a boy or a girl - official
Well the 19 week 2 day scan went pretty well by all accounts -you can see the photos here. And the wee one waved to us too!
Due to the Christmas pressure, we were booked in slightly before the 20 week optimum time, and so we're going back in the New Year to check a couple of additional heart veins that Bubs wasn't forthcoming with at the time - but we're doing so on the back of being told that all appears well - which is a huge relief.
The Sonographer was very careful to adhere to Grampian's policy of not looking for the sex of the baby. She did so by lifting her scanner up at all the moments when we could have got some sort of a clue.
MTB did think she saw 3 lines though at one stage, which apparently is indicative of a girl. I must have missed that one. I know 2 lines means pregnant, but I have a feling that's not the same thing, is it?
MTB is convinced I will be disappointed if it's a girl, so, for the record, I am here, on National TV (nearly) to declare that I will be as esctatic to have a baby girl as I would be to have a boy. There, it's official!
So now, it's onwards to our last Christmas as two, as Bubs merrily tinkers with his cord and does mad somersaults for the next 4 1/2 months before being launched into this scarey, big world.
Due to the Christmas pressure, we were booked in slightly before the 20 week optimum time, and so we're going back in the New Year to check a couple of additional heart veins that Bubs wasn't forthcoming with at the time - but we're doing so on the back of being told that all appears well - which is a huge relief.
The Sonographer was very careful to adhere to Grampian's policy of not looking for the sex of the baby. She did so by lifting her scanner up at all the moments when we could have got some sort of a clue.
MTB did think she saw 3 lines though at one stage, which apparently is indicative of a girl. I must have missed that one. I know 2 lines means pregnant, but I have a feling that's not the same thing, is it?
MTB is convinced I will be disappointed if it's a girl, so, for the record, I am here, on National TV (nearly) to declare that I will be as esctatic to have a baby girl as I would be to have a boy. There, it's official!
So now, it's onwards to our last Christmas as two, as Bubs merrily tinkers with his cord and does mad somersaults for the next 4 1/2 months before being launched into this scarey, big world.
Thursday 13 December 2007
Role reversal
It's a cliche, but it doesn't matter whether our baby is a boy or a girl, so long as it's healthy. Let's get this one out of the eay stright away - I am completely in agreement.
However, that doesn't mean I wouldn't like to know. Or at least, I did want to know, desperately. Mum To Be didn't want to know at all - she was completely ambivalent, even though she is unswerving in her belief we're having a girl.
But as time progresses, I find myself becoming less and less bothered about the baby's gender. I know that our local health authority won't tell us, as a matter of policy - something to do with being sued if they get it wrong and other cultures having elective abotions as soon as they find out it's not a boy - and I'm not worried. I'll have a peek at the next scan, and if anything obvious sticks out (or maybe just as to the point, doesn't), then hey ho, I'll know.
Mum To Be though now desperately does want to know. She would like to have more of an idea about the little creature she speaks to on a daily basis, and also has an unnerving panic and paranoia about the little one spending it's first six months in beige, beige and more beige.
So it's a bit of a role reversal now in terms of who wants to know. I don't think we're going private to find out, and weve been told by those-in-the-know that it'll be the best surprise ever, and I quite like the thought of that now.
Shouldn't have been surprised really. Every Christmas we've spent together, MTB has not been able to wait until the day itself before opening presents, whereas I've been happy to stay in suspense.
As they say, it'll all come out in the wash.
However, that doesn't mean I wouldn't like to know. Or at least, I did want to know, desperately. Mum To Be didn't want to know at all - she was completely ambivalent, even though she is unswerving in her belief we're having a girl.
But as time progresses, I find myself becoming less and less bothered about the baby's gender. I know that our local health authority won't tell us, as a matter of policy - something to do with being sued if they get it wrong and other cultures having elective abotions as soon as they find out it's not a boy - and I'm not worried. I'll have a peek at the next scan, and if anything obvious sticks out (or maybe just as to the point, doesn't), then hey ho, I'll know.
Mum To Be though now desperately does want to know. She would like to have more of an idea about the little creature she speaks to on a daily basis, and also has an unnerving panic and paranoia about the little one spending it's first six months in beige, beige and more beige.
So it's a bit of a role reversal now in terms of who wants to know. I don't think we're going private to find out, and weve been told by those-in-the-know that it'll be the best surprise ever, and I quite like the thought of that now.
Shouldn't have been surprised really. Every Christmas we've spent together, MTB has not been able to wait until the day itself before opening presents, whereas I've been happy to stay in suspense.
As they say, it'll all come out in the wash.
Wednesday 12 December 2007
Play fair...
It's been a wee while since I posted, due to work etc. Mum to be is getting bigger, and the wee one is now a stonking 6 inches long from crown to rump. We're 18 weeks and 2 days now, and have our next scan a week today, which is just totally exciting.
On the work front, we've had our pay deal ratified by the SNP who didn't miss the open goal they were presented with. The Federation are meeting today in London to ballot members potentially as to whether they wish the right to strike.
Reading some of the comments on the BBC News website, I see a lot of disparaging remarks made about the Police. I and my colleagues could go on for hours in answer to such views, but all I would say it that you should walk a mile in another man's shoes before judging him. Police Officers are normal members of the public doing a difficult, challenging job. We deal on a daily basis with the most horrendous circumstances, often under the greatest of provocation. Every job we go to could turn sour at any moment. Ask DC Stephen Oake and countless others. All we want is to be treated fairly.
Anyway, before getting overly political, Kent Police have a natty range of kids wear theyve just launched. Start 'em early seems to be the motive here!
On the work front, we've had our pay deal ratified by the SNP who didn't miss the open goal they were presented with. The Federation are meeting today in London to ballot members potentially as to whether they wish the right to strike.
Reading some of the comments on the BBC News website, I see a lot of disparaging remarks made about the Police. I and my colleagues could go on for hours in answer to such views, but all I would say it that you should walk a mile in another man's shoes before judging him. Police Officers are normal members of the public doing a difficult, challenging job. We deal on a daily basis with the most horrendous circumstances, often under the greatest of provocation. Every job we go to could turn sour at any moment. Ask DC Stephen Oake and countless others. All we want is to be treated fairly.
Anyway, before getting overly political, Kent Police have a natty range of kids wear theyve just launched. Start 'em early seems to be the motive here!
Thursday 6 December 2007
The gloves might be coming off
Mum to be's bump is really starting to show now, as Junior continues to grow and grow - it'll be 2 weeks now until we get the next scan, which I can't wait for.
On the work front, we've been offered - and told we're getting - a 2.5% pay rise this year after negotiations. It's a small victory - the Government wanted to give us 2.35%. 0.15% is a wee bit extra.
At least we're getting our pay rise back dated to September 1st, when it was due. The SNP have at least got that right. Meanwhile, Jacqui Smith - the right Honourable Home Secretary has said that in England and Wales the pay award is not being backdated. This effectively gives cops south of the border a 1.9% pay rise - in real terms, a pay cut.
I think she's sealed her fate with that one. All the talk now is how this might be the straw that breaks the camels back, and how the Fed want the right to strike. Powerful words, but in reality, taking a pay cut, then losing pay through striking is not something we can all afford to do, no matter how noble the cause. I have mouths to feed, first and foremost.
Maybe it won't come to strikes - maybe it'll be working to rule. Who knows.
I know people don't always like the Police in this country, but the alternative is martial law, provided most likely by a motley crew of PSCOs and squaddies.
Would you like a light for your pipe?
On the work front, we've been offered - and told we're getting - a 2.5% pay rise this year after negotiations. It's a small victory - the Government wanted to give us 2.35%. 0.15% is a wee bit extra.
At least we're getting our pay rise back dated to September 1st, when it was due. The SNP have at least got that right. Meanwhile, Jacqui Smith - the right Honourable Home Secretary has said that in England and Wales the pay award is not being backdated. This effectively gives cops south of the border a 1.9% pay rise - in real terms, a pay cut.
I think she's sealed her fate with that one. All the talk now is how this might be the straw that breaks the camels back, and how the Fed want the right to strike. Powerful words, but in reality, taking a pay cut, then losing pay through striking is not something we can all afford to do, no matter how noble the cause. I have mouths to feed, first and foremost.
Maybe it won't come to strikes - maybe it'll be working to rule. Who knows.
I know people don't always like the Police in this country, but the alternative is martial law, provided most likely by a motley crew of PSCOs and squaddies.
Would you like a light for your pipe?
Monday 3 December 2007
What would you do?
Mum to be and I received this on an email. I thought it would be another of those chain letter types, but I read it nonetheless. I am so glad I did.
I know lots of people may say this is schmalzy, or it isn't true and point me to a website that proves it isn't. I don't care, because there is a genuine human sentiment behind this story, and being in the position I am in just now, I can only hope one of two things.
That if my child is Shay, he meets the other kids.
That if my child ever meets Shay, he too does the right thing.
What would you do? . . . . you make the choice . Don't look for a punch
line, there isn't one . Read it anyway .
My question is: Would you have made the same choice?
At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning-disabled
children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that
would never be forgotten by all who attended . After extolling the school and
its dedicated staff, he offered a question: 'When not interfered with
by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection .
Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do . He cannot
understand things as other children do . Where is the natural order of
things in my son?'
The audience was stilled by the query. The father continued . 'I believe that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child ... '
Then he told the following story:
Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew
were playing baseball ... Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?'
Shay's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on
their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed
to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some
confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps .
Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not
expecting much) if Shay could play . The boy looked around for guidance
and said, 'We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth
inning.
I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the
ninth inning . '
Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on
a team shirt . His Father watched with a small tear in his eye and warmth
in his heart . The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted .
In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was
still behind by three . In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a
glove and played in the right field . Even though no hits came his way,
he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field,
grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands . In the
bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again . Now, with two outs and
the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was
scheduled to be next at bat .
At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to
win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat Everyone knew that a hit
was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the
bat properly, much less connect with the ball .
However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that
the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's
life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least
make contact . The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed . The
pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards
Shay . As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow
ground ball right back to the pitcher .
The game would now be over The pitcher picked up the soft grounder
and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman . Shay would
have been out and that would have been the end of the game .
Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's
head, out of reach of all team mates Everyone from the stands and both teams
started yelling, 'Shay, run to first! Run to first!' Never in his life
had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base . He scampered
down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled .
Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!' Catching his breath,
Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the
base . By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder
had the ball . . . the smallest guy on their team who now had his first
chance to be the hero for his team . He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for t he tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions
so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the
third-baseman's head . Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the
runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home .
All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay'
Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him
by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third!
Shay, run to third!'
As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators,
were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home ! Run home!' Shay ran to home,
stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand
slam and won the game for his team .
'That day', said the father softly with tears now rolling down his
face, 'the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and
humanity into this world' ...
Shay didn't make it to another summer . He died that winter, having
never forgotten being the hero and making his father so happy, and coming
home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day.
I know lots of people may say this is schmalzy, or it isn't true and point me to a website that proves it isn't. I don't care, because there is a genuine human sentiment behind this story, and being in the position I am in just now, I can only hope one of two things.
That if my child is Shay, he meets the other kids.
That if my child ever meets Shay, he too does the right thing.
What would you do? . . . . you make the choice . Don't look for a punch
line, there isn't one . Read it anyway .
My question is: Would you have made the same choice?
At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning-disabled
children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that
would never be forgotten by all who attended . After extolling the school and
its dedicated staff, he offered a question: 'When not interfered with
by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection .
Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do . He cannot
understand things as other children do . Where is the natural order of
things in my son?'
The audience was stilled by the query. The father continued . 'I believe that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child ... '
Then he told the following story:
Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew
were playing baseball ... Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?'
Shay's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on
their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed
to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some
confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps .
Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not
expecting much) if Shay could play . The boy looked around for guidance
and said, 'We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth
inning.
I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the
ninth inning . '
Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on
a team shirt . His Father watched with a small tear in his eye and warmth
in his heart . The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted .
In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was
still behind by three . In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a
glove and played in the right field . Even though no hits came his way,
he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field,
grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands . In the
bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again . Now, with two outs and
the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was
scheduled to be next at bat .
At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to
win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat Everyone knew that a hit
was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the
bat properly, much less connect with the ball .
However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that
the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's
life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least
make contact . The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed . The
pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards
Shay . As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow
ground ball right back to the pitcher .
The game would now be over The pitcher picked up the soft grounder
and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman . Shay would
have been out and that would have been the end of the game .
Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's
head, out of reach of all team mates Everyone from the stands and both teams
started yelling, 'Shay, run to first! Run to first!' Never in his life
had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base . He scampered
down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled .
Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!' Catching his breath,
Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the
base . By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder
had the ball . . . the smallest guy on their team who now had his first
chance to be the hero for his team . He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for t he tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions
so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the
third-baseman's head . Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the
runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home .
All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay'
Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him
by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third!
Shay, run to third!'
As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators,
were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home ! Run home!' Shay ran to home,
stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand
slam and won the game for his team .
'That day', said the father softly with tears now rolling down his
face, 'the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and
humanity into this world' ...
Shay didn't make it to another summer . He died that winter, having
never forgotten being the hero and making his father so happy, and coming
home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day.
Wednesday 28 November 2007
Wow
Well, that was a surprise! Went along to our 16 week Midwife check-up today (the community midwife is much friendlier than the hospital based ones we have encountered so far) and we were just expecting to have bloods taken for testing.
They test for all manner of things such as whether there's a risk of Downs Syndrome for one example. We have decided to have all the tests done - forewarned is forearmed and in any case it's good for peace of mind.
Anyway, up jumped my wife onto the bed and all of a sudden some gel was applied to her tummy and a remarkably clever little microphone was brought forth. The midwife said that we might not be able to hear Baby's heartbeat, but at 16 weeks she was going to have a search for it.
Now, my wife had thought she had felt baby flutters a few days prior to the appointment but had felt nothing since, so we listened with a wee bit of trepidation. All of a sudden came a strong little phut-phut..phut-phut...phut phut...
... it was truly awesome to hear it and such a total surprise. It seems the little nipper(ess) is fairly active too, because the heartbeat came and went as (s)he moved about - who knows, maybe swinging from their umbilical cord like a mini-Tarzan!!
It was another fantastic milestone reached, and a huge reminder of how precious a gift a child is, and what a huge responsibility awaits me. No, not awaits me, I have that responsibility now, in so many areas.
I have to make sure I reduce stress for my clever, beautiful wife. Her body is having demands placed upon it that she has never known before, so the slack has to be picked up by me, and not added to.
I have to be completely ready to welcome this little one into what is a big, scary world, full of nasty surprises and twists and turns. I have to be ready to guide them by their little hand through the pitfalls, and keep them safe and secure.
I have to ask myself, from now forwards and regarding everything I do, "Is what I am about to do in the best interests of my wife, my child and me?" If it doesn't fit all three categories, it won't be done.
In 3 weeks time we are due our 20 week scan, at which time Baby will be about 6 1/2 inches long, steadily gaining weight, wth a fully operational circulatory system, hair, a nervous system, reflexes... 140 days ago (s)he was a wee cluster of cells, invisible to the naked eye and unrecognisable as (s)he is now. That'll mark half way. It's an amazing journey.
(Picture courtesy of www.babycentre.co.uk)
They test for all manner of things such as whether there's a risk of Downs Syndrome for one example. We have decided to have all the tests done - forewarned is forearmed and in any case it's good for peace of mind.
Anyway, up jumped my wife onto the bed and all of a sudden some gel was applied to her tummy and a remarkably clever little microphone was brought forth. The midwife said that we might not be able to hear Baby's heartbeat, but at 16 weeks she was going to have a search for it.
Now, my wife had thought she had felt baby flutters a few days prior to the appointment but had felt nothing since, so we listened with a wee bit of trepidation. All of a sudden came a strong little phut-phut..phut-phut...phut phut...
... it was truly awesome to hear it and such a total surprise. It seems the little nipper(ess) is fairly active too, because the heartbeat came and went as (s)he moved about - who knows, maybe swinging from their umbilical cord like a mini-Tarzan!!
It was another fantastic milestone reached, and a huge reminder of how precious a gift a child is, and what a huge responsibility awaits me. No, not awaits me, I have that responsibility now, in so many areas.
I have to make sure I reduce stress for my clever, beautiful wife. Her body is having demands placed upon it that she has never known before, so the slack has to be picked up by me, and not added to.
I have to be completely ready to welcome this little one into what is a big, scary world, full of nasty surprises and twists and turns. I have to be ready to guide them by their little hand through the pitfalls, and keep them safe and secure.
I have to ask myself, from now forwards and regarding everything I do, "Is what I am about to do in the best interests of my wife, my child and me?" If it doesn't fit all three categories, it won't be done.
In 3 weeks time we are due our 20 week scan, at which time Baby will be about 6 1/2 inches long, steadily gaining weight, wth a fully operational circulatory system, hair, a nervous system, reflexes... 140 days ago (s)he was a wee cluster of cells, invisible to the naked eye and unrecognisable as (s)he is now. That'll mark half way. It's an amazing journey.
(Picture courtesy of www.babycentre.co.uk)
Friday 23 November 2007
New additions
There has been a new addition to my extended family recently...
My brother has taken on the little fellow above, and as yet can't think of a name.
There have been many suggestions, Alfie, Harley, Rio, Rockie, and many others - apparently, none seem to fit (although I do like Alfie).
Any suggestions - feel free to suggest away.
Our latest photo of our wee one is not so colourful...
... yet it is equally, if not more exciting :) Have a good weekend - I'm not working it, so Christmas shopping on the card? We'll see...
Thursday 22 November 2007
Words from a Mum To Be
COP SHOP CUT & SHUT
Latest government policy is to adopt the
‘cut and shut’ method. This differs from the mechanical sense and does not involve vehicles. The policy involves cutting staff numbers and reducing operational stations to enable current officers to gain better experience by having to do everything!
Latest government policy is to adopt the
‘cut and shut’ method. This differs from the mechanical sense and does not involve vehicles. The policy involves cutting staff numbers and reducing operational stations to enable current officers to gain better experience by having to do everything!
Wednesday 21 November 2007
Many important issues
That's me back to work after a few days off and a visit from the parents. They've been excited since we told them our good news about 10 weeks ago, so it was nice for them to be able finally to get up here and for us to be able to show them the scan pictures and the nursery.
Work itself was - well, it's like I've never been away, frankly. I got finished virtually on time, came home and was about to settle down to a new episode of Secret Millionaire, when I found that C4 are apparently pulling a similar stunt to GR's Kitchen Nightmares and giving us "another chance to see" something they already broadcast not that long ago.
It got me thinking about licence fees, and their real worth. Should we have to pay the licence fee if we already pay Sky to receive the same broadcasts?
Then the news came on and a more important thought crossed my mind. Seeing as England totally messed up against Croatia tonight, it occurred to me that young Bubs, whether male or female, could inherit some of his dad's fast twitch fibres, ball control and competitve edge. (Mum-to be is laughing at me just now - not with me, AT me). If that happens, will Bubs, being Scottish by birth but with an English dad, want to represent England or Scotland?
I don't agree necessarily with place of birth etc, as Jesus born in barn maketh Him not a Donkey, nor even a farmer. She-Who-Cooks-Fantastically reckons Scotland. It's a debate for the future.
One for the very near future though is Sir Ian Blair - the MPA are apparently considering a vote of No Confidence in him, so says the Daily Mail today. Any takers for Democratically Elected, accountable Chief Constables?
Work itself was - well, it's like I've never been away, frankly. I got finished virtually on time, came home and was about to settle down to a new episode of Secret Millionaire, when I found that C4 are apparently pulling a similar stunt to GR's Kitchen Nightmares and giving us "another chance to see" something they already broadcast not that long ago.
It got me thinking about licence fees, and their real worth. Should we have to pay the licence fee if we already pay Sky to receive the same broadcasts?
Then the news came on and a more important thought crossed my mind. Seeing as England totally messed up against Croatia tonight, it occurred to me that young Bubs, whether male or female, could inherit some of his dad's fast twitch fibres, ball control and competitve edge. (Mum-to be is laughing at me just now - not with me, AT me). If that happens, will Bubs, being Scottish by birth but with an English dad, want to represent England or Scotland?
I don't agree necessarily with place of birth etc, as Jesus born in barn maketh Him not a Donkey, nor even a farmer. She-Who-Cooks-Fantastically reckons Scotland. It's a debate for the future.
One for the very near future though is Sir Ian Blair - the MPA are apparently considering a vote of No Confidence in him, so says the Daily Mail today. Any takers for Democratically Elected, accountable Chief Constables?
Tuesday 20 November 2007
Who can hear you?
Chris Langham was released from prison recently, having completed a fraction of his sentence for downloading child-pornography.
He has been beamed into my living room today thanks to Sky News and an interview in which he claims he downloaded this abhorrent material in a caring and compassionate way, and wondered if he'd come across images of his own abuse he claims to have suffered as a child.
This narcisistic, self-indulgent excusing of something that every right minded person knows is beneath contempt, is itself contemptuous.
Being about to bring a new life into this world (via Mrs Dad-To-Be), this is something I feel even stronger about than before (and it was already a well-honed disgust), and I don't know now though, who is worse.
Langham, for doing it in the first place, or Sky, and the rest of the media, for giving his whining excuses a soapbox and microphone that the victims rarely receive. I was going to link to his interview when I started writing this post, but during the course of the last 15 minutes I have decided that by doing that I am simply amplifying his voice a little louder.
There are dangerous, manipulative, devious and downright evil people amongst us, people who view children not as our future, but as their own warped present. We must do everything we can to not validate their excuses, not to give them a stage bigger and better than the victims, and we must always do right by the children. They are the future.
He has been beamed into my living room today thanks to Sky News and an interview in which he claims he downloaded this abhorrent material in a caring and compassionate way, and wondered if he'd come across images of his own abuse he claims to have suffered as a child.
This narcisistic, self-indulgent excusing of something that every right minded person knows is beneath contempt, is itself contemptuous.
Being about to bring a new life into this world (via Mrs Dad-To-Be), this is something I feel even stronger about than before (and it was already a well-honed disgust), and I don't know now though, who is worse.
Langham, for doing it in the first place, or Sky, and the rest of the media, for giving his whining excuses a soapbox and microphone that the victims rarely receive. I was going to link to his interview when I started writing this post, but during the course of the last 15 minutes I have decided that by doing that I am simply amplifying his voice a little louder.
There are dangerous, manipulative, devious and downright evil people amongst us, people who view children not as our future, but as their own warped present. We must do everything we can to not validate their excuses, not to give them a stage bigger and better than the victims, and we must always do right by the children. They are the future.
A Kitchen Nightmare
Both myself and Mrs Dad-To-Be are culinary fans. Not in an over-the-top, over-zealous, poncey kind of way, but in an enthusiastic, semi-able way.
Well, I am. I have followed a recipe for an authentic Tiramisu (and made way too much, but that's another story), I have done a mean fillet steak and oven roasted balsamic shallots, and my mash is smashing in the proper meaning of the word.
Mrs Dad-To-Be is a cracking chef de cuisine, who can turn her hand to anything whatsoever. She has shown my dad what proper gravy tastes like (much to the irritation of my mum), she creates the most luxurious tiffin (sadly it's incredibly bad for you), her lasagne is superb (if somewhat disproportionate to the number of people she's looking to dish up to) and she has even cooked broccolli that my dad liked (again, to my mirth and my mum's dismay).
So it's no surprise that we both sit down on a Tuesday night to watch Gordon Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares. It was billed as a new series, where he revisited restaurants he has previously help in the preceeding series. Except it's not. It's 55 minutes of the preceeding show and a 5 minute return-to-the-scene-of-the-crime a year or so later to see how they're doing.
Its bloody annoying, having to watch the same show you've already seen (more than once in fact, seeing as they've been repeated on a plethora of satellite channels over the last year), all for the last 5 minutes. It's like having to buy a DVD just to see the alternative ending of a film you've already seen - I mean you wouldn't, would you?
So tonight, we've seen the Spanish episode again, with the Donkey kebab and the poo on the terrace.
On a related note, we are planning to make our own baby food, to a greater or lesser degree. It's a bit like The Good Life, only we don't have a veggie patch. Anyone got any recipes?
Well, I am. I have followed a recipe for an authentic Tiramisu (and made way too much, but that's another story), I have done a mean fillet steak and oven roasted balsamic shallots, and my mash is smashing in the proper meaning of the word.
Mrs Dad-To-Be is a cracking chef de cuisine, who can turn her hand to anything whatsoever. She has shown my dad what proper gravy tastes like (much to the irritation of my mum), she creates the most luxurious tiffin (sadly it's incredibly bad for you), her lasagne is superb (if somewhat disproportionate to the number of people she's looking to dish up to) and she has even cooked broccolli that my dad liked (again, to my mirth and my mum's dismay).
So it's no surprise that we both sit down on a Tuesday night to watch Gordon Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares. It was billed as a new series, where he revisited restaurants he has previously help in the preceeding series. Except it's not. It's 55 minutes of the preceeding show and a 5 minute return-to-the-scene-of-the-crime a year or so later to see how they're doing.
Its bloody annoying, having to watch the same show you've already seen (more than once in fact, seeing as they've been repeated on a plethora of satellite channels over the last year), all for the last 5 minutes. It's like having to buy a DVD just to see the alternative ending of a film you've already seen - I mean you wouldn't, would you?
So tonight, we've seen the Spanish episode again, with the Donkey kebab and the poo on the terrace.
On a related note, we are planning to make our own baby food, to a greater or lesser degree. It's a bit like The Good Life, only we don't have a veggie patch. Anyone got any recipes?
Monday 19 November 2007
More Pooh, and Tigger too
Today was a great day in the becoming dad-ified and ready for the arrival of our little one in May.
This is because I received a gift; not just any gift, but a splendiferous gift. A boxed set of the tales of Winnie the Pooh.
This would be a fantastic present if I already knew the stories, but having (somehow) missed out on these tales during my own childhood, I now have the extreme pleasure of having to familiarise myself with them before being able to regale them with delight to Bubs. I can safely say, this will not be a chore.
So this won't be a long post, as Pooh is hunting a Woozle, Piglet is being scared and Christopher Robin is busy laughing at them... I'll let you know when I get to Tigger.
This is because I received a gift; not just any gift, but a splendiferous gift. A boxed set of the tales of Winnie the Pooh.
This would be a fantastic present if I already knew the stories, but having (somehow) missed out on these tales during my own childhood, I now have the extreme pleasure of having to familiarise myself with them before being able to regale them with delight to Bubs. I can safely say, this will not be a chore.
So this won't be a long post, as Pooh is hunting a Woozle, Piglet is being scared and Christopher Robin is busy laughing at them... I'll let you know when I get to Tigger.
Thursday 15 November 2007
Domestics
I just read an interesting post on Bounty, about mums, dads, fallings-out and the Police.
Now, from what I can decipher, she hits him a fair bit, he just wants to have contact with his little'un so he doesn't retalliate. One time, he pushes her away, she falls, calls the Police and he gets arrested. Doesn't seem fair really, and it probably isn't.
The poster of this thread goes on to say that the Police have side with her and the law doesn't care about dads sometimes.
I can see this from a slightly different perspective, doing the job I do.
Whenever there is corroborative evidence in allegations of domestic assault (i.e. the allegation and maybe a bruise or a scratch, or more), the Police (certainly up here in Scotland, and it'll nae be that much different in England and Wales) are duty bound to follow the Lord Advocate's guidelines, which generally means that the accused (as they quickly become) will appear at court on the next lawful day. That's bad enough, but if this occurs on Friday teatime, it means that they're in the cells from then until Monday.
Either way the allegation has to be investigated, which means that someone's getting arrested on suspicion (or detained as we call it) until the matter's resolved.
Very often I have been to incidents where a couple have fallen out and one of them in a fit of pique calls the Police, to get the other one out of their hair for a few hours. They tell us when we get there that they don't want to press charges, they just want some space for a while.
They don't seem to realise the chain of events that they set in motion, and they don't take kindly to us following our procedures.
I know a lot of cops who detest being sent to domestics for precisely this reason. There have been circumstances in the past where domestic assaults have become murders, so we always take them seriously. But spurious complaints made by males and females (we don't side with men or women, we respond to the individual circumstances) do a great injustice to the genuinely fearful and abused, who often are so scared they are the ones least likely to have the genuine bottle to call us.
Point of this post. Well, it's to say that we, as the Police, don't have a thing against the dads. Nor do we have a thing against the mums. We certainly want the best for any victims and all children involved. But we don't want to have to deal with spurious, false, exaggerated complaints borne out of spite. Because whilst we're dealing with those, a real victim could be suffering.
Now, from what I can decipher, she hits him a fair bit, he just wants to have contact with his little'un so he doesn't retalliate. One time, he pushes her away, she falls, calls the Police and he gets arrested. Doesn't seem fair really, and it probably isn't.
The poster of this thread goes on to say that the Police have side with her and the law doesn't care about dads sometimes.
I can see this from a slightly different perspective, doing the job I do.
Whenever there is corroborative evidence in allegations of domestic assault (i.e. the allegation and maybe a bruise or a scratch, or more), the Police (certainly up here in Scotland, and it'll nae be that much different in England and Wales) are duty bound to follow the Lord Advocate's guidelines, which generally means that the accused (as they quickly become) will appear at court on the next lawful day. That's bad enough, but if this occurs on Friday teatime, it means that they're in the cells from then until Monday.
Either way the allegation has to be investigated, which means that someone's getting arrested on suspicion (or detained as we call it) until the matter's resolved.
Very often I have been to incidents where a couple have fallen out and one of them in a fit of pique calls the Police, to get the other one out of their hair for a few hours. They tell us when we get there that they don't want to press charges, they just want some space for a while.
They don't seem to realise the chain of events that they set in motion, and they don't take kindly to us following our procedures.
I know a lot of cops who detest being sent to domestics for precisely this reason. There have been circumstances in the past where domestic assaults have become murders, so we always take them seriously. But spurious complaints made by males and females (we don't side with men or women, we respond to the individual circumstances) do a great injustice to the genuinely fearful and abused, who often are so scared they are the ones least likely to have the genuine bottle to call us.
Point of this post. Well, it's to say that we, as the Police, don't have a thing against the dads. Nor do we have a thing against the mums. We certainly want the best for any victims and all children involved. But we don't want to have to deal with spurious, false, exaggerated complaints borne out of spite. Because whilst we're dealing with those, a real victim could be suffering.
Wednesday 14 November 2007
A load of Pooh
Well that's another week past, and we're now 14 weeks, heading towards 15. After my chastening experience at the maternity hospital last week, I can happily report I haven't encountered any fiery fearsome midwives this week, and my self-confidence is now recovered to the extent that I can get up from the sofa without furtively looking around to see if I'll get away with it. Woof!
It's been a busy old time though, and we now have (the vast majority of) the nursery done.
It must have been back in April-time that myself and my lady went to Makro for a nosey about. This was at a time when babies were not really at the forefront of our minds, although we saw a beautiful 3-piece set of nursery furniture. A five foot high wardrobe, a dresser with baby changer and a cot. All in an easy-to-assemble-slot-together-no-nails-no-hinges-no-hammers-and-no-swearing format. We admired, we cooed, we said "not in a million years at over £200 for each item!" and then we forgot about them really. We didn't need baby furniture after all, and it was out of our price range.
Fast forward 7 months, and our spare bedroom, which we had hardly touched since moving in 5 years ago, was all of a sudden most definitely needed. A lick of paint, a new dado rail, the old carpet up (and God, our dog really had gone to town on bits of it, so that was way past time anyway), and new carpet down (which is nicer than the newish one we got for our own room!)
The old chest of drawers was absolutely wrecked (apparently I shove things in to the point of daftness which killed the structure of the thing), and the wardrobe was a rickety relic from the bloke we bought the house from. They were both dismantled and taken down to the local skip, leaving us with the need to replace them. No rush we thought, back in September...
Fast forward to the end of last week and we realised that my folks are due up in (as it was then) a week. We have no carpet and no bedroom furniture, although the bed's pretty comfy! We got ourselves an inexpensive carpet ordered and fitted, leaving ourselves with just the furniture to find. We figured one of those cheap canvas wardrobes would be ok, and maybe a chest of drawers that is similar, so we headed back to Makro. Personally I didn't think it would have been worth going there, but it's close, and it meant a walk around other cool stuff.
I hadn't realised that pregnancy had given my wife such perception. She headed completely the opposite way to the normal way we would normally have gone, leaving me in her wake, to a pallet where the Pooh furniture was still standing, with a big A-Frame sale poster above it. And a reduction. A huge reduction. A massive reduction. £60 for each of the three bits of furniture. £180 all in, less than a third of the original price! Wahay!! We'll have those please!! And even better remember, it's an easy-to-assemble-slot-together-no-nails-no-hinges-no-hammers-and-no-swearing format.
So we (somehow) squished the 6 boxes into the back of a small Honda Civic and drove them home to get them set up - and I did the dresser and the wardrobe in less than 10 minutes!! Oh my, how this baby thing is going to be a cinch! We didn't do the cot as my dad won't fit into it and the sides would be a bit high for him to clamber out of even if he did, so that'll wait until they've been and gone.
But here's the best bit, well, the two best bits. Firstly, we compromise on a number of things for the house, but this was our first choice of furniture so it was great to get it.
Secondly, these sets are on sale on the Internet, through respectable retailers at over £700 the set!!!!
So what was the point really of this blog. I guess it's to gloat that we got a bargain. Usually it's our friends who land on their feet and we are left in the starting blocks. Not this time!!
And so, I have a week off work now to admire our handiwork in the nursery (as we can genuinely call it now, resplendent in Pooh transfers) and to count down the days to week 15.
And so, it's goodnight from Pooh, Tigger, Eeyore, Piglet, Kanga, Roo and me. Night night.
It's been a busy old time though, and we now have (the vast majority of) the nursery done.
It must have been back in April-time that myself and my lady went to Makro for a nosey about. This was at a time when babies were not really at the forefront of our minds, although we saw a beautiful 3-piece set of nursery furniture. A five foot high wardrobe, a dresser with baby changer and a cot. All in an easy-to-assemble-slot-together-no-nails-no-hinges-no-hammers-and-no-swearing format. We admired, we cooed, we said "not in a million years at over £200 for each item!" and then we forgot about them really. We didn't need baby furniture after all, and it was out of our price range.
Fast forward 7 months, and our spare bedroom, which we had hardly touched since moving in 5 years ago, was all of a sudden most definitely needed. A lick of paint, a new dado rail, the old carpet up (and God, our dog really had gone to town on bits of it, so that was way past time anyway), and new carpet down (which is nicer than the newish one we got for our own room!)
The old chest of drawers was absolutely wrecked (apparently I shove things in to the point of daftness which killed the structure of the thing), and the wardrobe was a rickety relic from the bloke we bought the house from. They were both dismantled and taken down to the local skip, leaving us with the need to replace them. No rush we thought, back in September...
Fast forward to the end of last week and we realised that my folks are due up in (as it was then) a week. We have no carpet and no bedroom furniture, although the bed's pretty comfy! We got ourselves an inexpensive carpet ordered and fitted, leaving ourselves with just the furniture to find. We figured one of those cheap canvas wardrobes would be ok, and maybe a chest of drawers that is similar, so we headed back to Makro. Personally I didn't think it would have been worth going there, but it's close, and it meant a walk around other cool stuff.
I hadn't realised that pregnancy had given my wife such perception. She headed completely the opposite way to the normal way we would normally have gone, leaving me in her wake, to a pallet where the Pooh furniture was still standing, with a big A-Frame sale poster above it. And a reduction. A huge reduction. A massive reduction. £60 for each of the three bits of furniture. £180 all in, less than a third of the original price! Wahay!! We'll have those please!! And even better remember, it's an easy-to-assemble-slot-together-no-nails-no-hinges-no-hammers-and-no-swearing format.
So we (somehow) squished the 6 boxes into the back of a small Honda Civic and drove them home to get them set up - and I did the dresser and the wardrobe in less than 10 minutes!! Oh my, how this baby thing is going to be a cinch! We didn't do the cot as my dad won't fit into it and the sides would be a bit high for him to clamber out of even if he did, so that'll wait until they've been and gone.
But here's the best bit, well, the two best bits. Firstly, we compromise on a number of things for the house, but this was our first choice of furniture so it was great to get it.
Secondly, these sets are on sale on the Internet, through respectable retailers at over £700 the set!!!!
So what was the point really of this blog. I guess it's to gloat that we got a bargain. Usually it's our friends who land on their feet and we are left in the starting blocks. Not this time!!
And so, I have a week off work now to admire our handiwork in the nursery (as we can genuinely call it now, resplendent in Pooh transfers) and to count down the days to week 15.
And so, it's goodnight from Pooh, Tigger, Eeyore, Piglet, Kanga, Roo and me. Night night.
Thursday 8 November 2007
Science of bringing up baby
Recently we have been watching 'Bringing Up Baby', a show on Channel 4 where three different methods of bringing up and coping with new-borns have been put to the test and compared.
The first is based on the 1950s 'Routine Method', the second on Dr Spock, the 60s guru, and the third is the Continuum Theory (this one sounds a bit like a sci-fi film, maybe one of those Star Trek films featuring Spock).
Seeing as the Routine Method is the only one not to evoke thoughts of Spock, Klingons and Phasers (always set to stun, weren't they!?), this one appeals most.
Flippancy apart, the routine method seems to be about setting down an early routine for baby, so after a short while they get to expect to feed, to sleep etc at certain times. It requires a wee bit of firmness, but it's ideal for helping baby fit into the family and to allow mum to quicker regain a routine of her own.
It initially caused some controversy on the C4 programme for seeming to be harsh, but at the end of the 3 month period, the babies on this particular routine seemed the most contented and well adjusted, and the parents seemed to least harrassed.
I guess it's early days for me to be spouting about how we react and cope with baby when (s)he arrives but I think routine seems best. I'll read this again in 7 months and see how accurate I was(n't)!
The first is based on the 1950s 'Routine Method', the second on Dr Spock, the 60s guru, and the third is the Continuum Theory (this one sounds a bit like a sci-fi film, maybe one of those Star Trek films featuring Spock).
Seeing as the Routine Method is the only one not to evoke thoughts of Spock, Klingons and Phasers (always set to stun, weren't they!?), this one appeals most.
Flippancy apart, the routine method seems to be about setting down an early routine for baby, so after a short while they get to expect to feed, to sleep etc at certain times. It requires a wee bit of firmness, but it's ideal for helping baby fit into the family and to allow mum to quicker regain a routine of her own.
It initially caused some controversy on the C4 programme for seeming to be harsh, but at the end of the 3 month period, the babies on this particular routine seemed the most contented and well adjusted, and the parents seemed to least harrassed.
I guess it's early days for me to be spouting about how we react and cope with baby when (s)he arrives but I think routine seems best. I'll read this again in 7 months and see how accurate I was(n't)!
Wednesday 7 November 2007
A dog's life
I now know what my dog feels like.
Not in so far as I can suddenly lick my own "bits", nor have I sprouted a tail, started sniffing my own poo, or weeing outside. And I haven't got fleas either (though the thought of it has suddenly made my scalp itch!)
Off we went for the scan today, and every time my darling wife was called through for this, that or the other appointment, or to take her wee somewhere (Doctors are fascinated by the wee of pregnant ladies), I stood up too, to be told, "Not you" and so I would slink back round into my seat, slowly exhale and probably look pitiful. Just like when I tell my own dog, "Bed!"
They say you should walk a mile in another man's shoes before judging him - I think you should walk a mile on another dog's paws, and spend an hour being sent to bed before you cast judgement.
But anyway, everything seemed to go well, even though the hospital were wise to us and told us we wouldn't be getting another scan today - Boo, that was the bit I was looking forward to.
In other news, I can't believe I declined to watch Liverpool play last night, and they stuck 8 past Besiktas - typical!
Maybe if I took my own wee along I'd get invited to more things...?
Not in so far as I can suddenly lick my own "bits", nor have I sprouted a tail, started sniffing my own poo, or weeing outside. And I haven't got fleas either (though the thought of it has suddenly made my scalp itch!)
Off we went for the scan today, and every time my darling wife was called through for this, that or the other appointment, or to take her wee somewhere (Doctors are fascinated by the wee of pregnant ladies), I stood up too, to be told, "Not you" and so I would slink back round into my seat, slowly exhale and probably look pitiful. Just like when I tell my own dog, "Bed!"
They say you should walk a mile in another man's shoes before judging him - I think you should walk a mile on another dog's paws, and spend an hour being sent to bed before you cast judgement.
But anyway, everything seemed to go well, even though the hospital were wise to us and told us we wouldn't be getting another scan today - Boo, that was the bit I was looking forward to.
In other news, I can't believe I declined to watch Liverpool play last night, and they stuck 8 past Besiktas - typical!
Maybe if I took my own wee along I'd get invited to more things...?
Tuesday 6 November 2007
Forums - read all about it
I'm no stranger to forums. Before we became pregnant I was regularly irritating my better half by coming in from my work (I am a cop) and reading through a couple of Police forums.
They're like a topical newsletter, written and maintained by people who understand my world, and full of useful snippets of information, hints, tips, etc. There are also sections for prospective officers, and chart all aspects of the recruitment process.
It's no surprise then that when we discovered our little one was on the way, we sought out a similar type forum for pregnancy. For the most part, the forums we discovered are largely inhabited by mums and mums to be, but they all seem to have a Dads Only Zone, where prospective dads can chill out, away from the maelstrom of raging feminine hormones.
It appears though that my fondness for forums, where like minded individuals can relax, chat etc, is reserved for a different type to pregnancy though. Since signing up I have seen something quite worrying, which appears to be a reliance on the forum for everything pregnancy related, and a penchant for only acknowledging tragedy.
It's hit close to home too. With our scare last week we logged on looking for some reassurance about bleeding. What we found were scare stories about foetuses (foeti?) ceasing to develop at every stage, worries being posted in answer to other worries, and almost an online version of chinese whispers. Nowhere to be found was a calm, reassuring voice, and nowhere was there a common-sensical "Get thee to the bloody Midwife!"
When we posted our good news we didn't get many replies, which was sad. It seemed that the stressed out, fraught posts attracted all the attention. Maybe it's because we all thrive a wee bit on drama, especially when we perceive that we can add some sage comment, or show we've had worse ourselves.
The dads' zone seems to be populated in the majority by women whose own other halves are against the pregnancy, totally uninterested and ambivalent, not showing any paternal desires and generally being meanie-bots (It's definitely NOT good to be a meanie-bot - ask my wife). They appear to be asking the sane, pleasant enthusiatic dads-to-be for their advice, although if you take as gospel the amount of disaffected women out there, you'd be hard pushed to find a decent bloke, especially seeming as all these posts are answered by other women!
I did consider starting my own forum and running it, but we've got 6 months to go, and then franky I'll be way too deep in nappies, rusks (can't wait, I loved them as a kid and now I get them again!), Johnsons lotion and baby sick to even give it a second thought.
So, I am going to ask the midwife if anything concerns us, keep good news for friends and here, and read with interest but a healthy dose of cynicism the forums.
Any thought on whether Sir Ian should stay or go?
They're like a topical newsletter, written and maintained by people who understand my world, and full of useful snippets of information, hints, tips, etc. There are also sections for prospective officers, and chart all aspects of the recruitment process.
It's no surprise then that when we discovered our little one was on the way, we sought out a similar type forum for pregnancy. For the most part, the forums we discovered are largely inhabited by mums and mums to be, but they all seem to have a Dads Only Zone, where prospective dads can chill out, away from the maelstrom of raging feminine hormones.
It appears though that my fondness for forums, where like minded individuals can relax, chat etc, is reserved for a different type to pregnancy though. Since signing up I have seen something quite worrying, which appears to be a reliance on the forum for everything pregnancy related, and a penchant for only acknowledging tragedy.
It's hit close to home too. With our scare last week we logged on looking for some reassurance about bleeding. What we found were scare stories about foetuses (foeti?) ceasing to develop at every stage, worries being posted in answer to other worries, and almost an online version of chinese whispers. Nowhere to be found was a calm, reassuring voice, and nowhere was there a common-sensical "Get thee to the bloody Midwife!"
When we posted our good news we didn't get many replies, which was sad. It seemed that the stressed out, fraught posts attracted all the attention. Maybe it's because we all thrive a wee bit on drama, especially when we perceive that we can add some sage comment, or show we've had worse ourselves.
The dads' zone seems to be populated in the majority by women whose own other halves are against the pregnancy, totally uninterested and ambivalent, not showing any paternal desires and generally being meanie-bots (It's definitely NOT good to be a meanie-bot - ask my wife). They appear to be asking the sane, pleasant enthusiatic dads-to-be for their advice, although if you take as gospel the amount of disaffected women out there, you'd be hard pushed to find a decent bloke, especially seeming as all these posts are answered by other women!
I did consider starting my own forum and running it, but we've got 6 months to go, and then franky I'll be way too deep in nappies, rusks (can't wait, I loved them as a kid and now I get them again!), Johnsons lotion and baby sick to even give it a second thought.
So, I am going to ask the midwife if anything concerns us, keep good news for friends and here, and read with interest but a healthy dose of cynicism the forums.
Any thought on whether Sir Ian should stay or go?
Scan 2
Well, tomorrow is the date of our first scheduled scan - the one that would have given us our first view of the wee one, had we not had the scare last week.
We're still going tomorrow, as we've been advised to keep the appointment, and there's a chance that we'll still get the scan. The quality should be a bit better than these
But that's not to do down their significance!!!
I'll post again after the appointment tomorrow morning -here's hoping all's still tickety-boo!
We're still going tomorrow, as we've been advised to keep the appointment, and there's a chance that we'll still get the scan. The quality should be a bit better than these
But that's not to do down their significance!!!
I'll post again after the appointment tomorrow morning -here's hoping all's still tickety-boo!
Saturday 3 November 2007
Concept to reality
The first few weeks of pregnancy are quite weird for a bloke. I have come to this conclusion by experiencing it first hand.
For the uninitiated, it goes something like this.
Darling wife comes out of bathroom and hands me a plastic thing, a bit like a toothbrush handle. She says "Honey, I'm not going to be drinking for a while...", I finally twig, see two lines and get the whole We're Going To Have A Baby thing. It's a dizzying, confusing, exciting time.
Depending on when you want to tell people this life-changing news, you..erm, well, tell them. Everyone shakes your hand, says "well done", "enjoy the last few months of freedom", and so on.
But nobody tells you this:-
Then for the bloke... well, nothing changes. All the changes from that point onwards are in the woman. She gets sick, she craves weird foods (luckily my better half craved cheeseburgers and so I could happily go along with that) but me - I don't.
I reckon blokes get used to the "We're having a baby in a few months" thought process, asnd there it stays. Despite all the baby forums and web sites that show various stages of baby development, it doesn't really hit home. Especially when, as I have posted previously, no medical professional seems willing to confirm the pregnancy for about 3 months.
It's then that accusations can fly in from our darling wives that we're losing interest in the whole thing. we're not, but nothing seems to be happening after the initial rush of madness.
Until the scan. Notwithstanding the trauma (OK, melodramatic word after the event - see previous post - but it was at the time) of our first scan, this is the time that husbands/partners/significant others can finally see what's been causing all the fuss, to-do, sickness and cheesburger-feasting.
The ultrasound scan, once you've established that everything seems ok, there is a heartbeat, the genetic blueprint seems to have worked thus far, is a really emotional moment. I welled up anyway, but when the wee one kicked (then went back to sleep!) I just wanted to burst!
It's at that point that it all becomes real, and pregnancy isn't just a concept - especially for men.
So, if there are any slightly panicky women out there who think that their other half has lost interest, and you haven't had a scan yet -well, if they're anything like me, the scan will just prove that they blooming well haven't lost any interest - they just need more than a concept!
For the uninitiated, it goes something like this.
Darling wife comes out of bathroom and hands me a plastic thing, a bit like a toothbrush handle. She says "Honey, I'm not going to be drinking for a while...", I finally twig, see two lines and get the whole We're Going To Have A Baby thing. It's a dizzying, confusing, exciting time.
Depending on when you want to tell people this life-changing news, you..erm, well, tell them. Everyone shakes your hand, says "well done", "enjoy the last few months of freedom", and so on.
But nobody tells you this:-
Then for the bloke... well, nothing changes. All the changes from that point onwards are in the woman. She gets sick, she craves weird foods (luckily my better half craved cheeseburgers and so I could happily go along with that) but me - I don't.
I reckon blokes get used to the "We're having a baby in a few months" thought process, asnd there it stays. Despite all the baby forums and web sites that show various stages of baby development, it doesn't really hit home. Especially when, as I have posted previously, no medical professional seems willing to confirm the pregnancy for about 3 months.
It's then that accusations can fly in from our darling wives that we're losing interest in the whole thing. we're not, but nothing seems to be happening after the initial rush of madness.
Until the scan. Notwithstanding the trauma (OK, melodramatic word after the event - see previous post - but it was at the time) of our first scan, this is the time that husbands/partners/significant others can finally see what's been causing all the fuss, to-do, sickness and cheesburger-feasting.
The ultrasound scan, once you've established that everything seems ok, there is a heartbeat, the genetic blueprint seems to have worked thus far, is a really emotional moment. I welled up anyway, but when the wee one kicked (then went back to sleep!) I just wanted to burst!
It's at that point that it all becomes real, and pregnancy isn't just a concept - especially for men.
So, if there are any slightly panicky women out there who think that their other half has lost interest, and you haven't had a scan yet -well, if they're anything like me, the scan will just prove that they blooming well haven't lost any interest - they just need more than a concept!
Thursday 1 November 2007
24 hours later
Phew!!! Scan this morning showed little Bubs, a strong heart beat and 12 weeks 3 days old!!
Talk about a strung out last 24 hours!
Got some cool photos, saw the heart beating, saw a wee little kick - then (s)he went back to sleep - just like Dad!!
I feel knackered now, absolutely worn out to the bone, but it was worth it to see that everything as it should be. The midwife and sonographer seemed a bit stand-offish at first, but that's probably not surprising given the circumstances of us being there. They didn't really know whether they were going to be giving us good or bad news - can't be an easy position for them to be in. Anyway, they soon thawed when they saw the wee heartbeat and could point it out.
Talk about a strung out last 24 hours!
Got some cool photos, saw the heart beating, saw a wee little kick - then (s)he went back to sleep - just like Dad!!
I feel knackered now, absolutely worn out to the bone, but it was worth it to see that everything as it should be. The midwife and sonographer seemed a bit stand-offish at first, but that's probably not surprising given the circumstances of us being there. They didn't really know whether they were going to be giving us good or bad news - can't be an easy position for them to be in. Anyway, they soon thawed when they saw the wee heartbeat and could point it out.
Wednesday 31 October 2007
Unexpected turn...
I was going to post today about fatherhood books, but that will have to take a back seat for now.
This morning my better half woke up and found that she had bled overnight - from, you know... there. She had said she was feeling sick last night, and she had put this down to being over-tired. I got held on at work and didn't get in until past 2am, so I thought that was a reasonable diagnosis.
Anyway, this morning, as I said, she had a bleed. We phoned the midwife straight away, who told us to get in touch with the ante natal unit of our local hospital, which, again, we did right away. First thing they asked - have you done a test, when was your last Aunt Flo (as I now know it's referred to!)
This has a direct link to yesterday's post when I mentioned that everything is taken on trust - "pregnant? Oh, well done, have an information pack, see you in 6 weeks for your first scan".
Anyway, I'm not criticising them, they said to go in tom orrow morning for a scan, as they feel it's best to check the wee one is ok.
I am really happy with their response, but I don't know what to feel about it. On the one hand, they're concerned and want to check things out to make sure all is well - on the other hand, and this isn't easy or nice to write, if miscarriages are going to happen, you can't do a stitch about it.
It's immensely frustrating sitting here not being able to do a thing about this, and not knowing if everything's ok or not. So you can imagine the state of my poor, dear wife. We call (s)he Bubs, but we've got names ready, and Bubs is a wee person in their own right, they're just not ready for making an appearance yet, so I just hope everything is ok.
I did do an internet search about bleeding during pregnancy, but all I did was what I told my wife off for doing, which was scaring myself.
Here's to tomorrow...
This morning my better half woke up and found that she had bled overnight - from, you know... there. She had said she was feeling sick last night, and she had put this down to being over-tired. I got held on at work and didn't get in until past 2am, so I thought that was a reasonable diagnosis.
Anyway, this morning, as I said, she had a bleed. We phoned the midwife straight away, who told us to get in touch with the ante natal unit of our local hospital, which, again, we did right away. First thing they asked - have you done a test, when was your last Aunt Flo (as I now know it's referred to!)
This has a direct link to yesterday's post when I mentioned that everything is taken on trust - "pregnant? Oh, well done, have an information pack, see you in 6 weeks for your first scan".
Anyway, I'm not criticising them, they said to go in tom orrow morning for a scan, as they feel it's best to check the wee one is ok.
I am really happy with their response, but I don't know what to feel about it. On the one hand, they're concerned and want to check things out to make sure all is well - on the other hand, and this isn't easy or nice to write, if miscarriages are going to happen, you can't do a stitch about it.
It's immensely frustrating sitting here not being able to do a thing about this, and not knowing if everything's ok or not. So you can imagine the state of my poor, dear wife. We call (s)he Bubs, but we've got names ready, and Bubs is a wee person in their own right, they're just not ready for making an appearance yet, so I just hope everything is ok.
I did do an internet search about bleeding during pregnancy, but all I did was what I told my wife off for doing, which was scaring myself.
Here's to tomorrow...
Tuesday 30 October 2007
12 weeks - a pregnancy oddessy
It's been some time since I last posted, so there have been huge changes in my wife and her bump.
We're now at 12 weeks and one day pregnant and 2 1/2 inches long, from crown to rump, fingerprints have formed, all major organs are operational and our wee one has a grip reflex which occurs automatically when the hand or foot is stimulated. The real purpose for the rest of the preganancy is for (s)he to grow bigger and stronger in order to survive the outside world.
We've had our booking in appointment with the midwife, who seems as if she knows what she's doing. that's a relief, because the student health visitor who was also there could only manage to hum, haar, coo and caw at anything we said - still, I'm sure it's a learning curve for her as well!
It's our first scan next week, and that's the key time. Until now, what I have found quite weird is that everyone we've told that we are pregnant - and by everyone I mean health professionals - has simply taken our word for it. My wife has given up taking positive pregnancy tests to appointments and given up offering to pee on sticks for people. It's so strange that nobody seems willing to confirm it!
Anyway, the scan is the first chance we really have for someone else - someone in a position of authority - to say "Congratulations, you are right, you're pregnant!" This is what is the scary thing. My wife has spent a fair bit of time online looking at forums, and every other post seems to be about missed miscarriages that haven't been apparent to the unsuspecting mums-to-be. They seem like they're going to their scans and being told "sorry, baby stopped developing x weeks ago".
Whilst such events do happen, they are magnified in their regularity by these forums, where seemingly only bad news is posted. So, we now take with an unhealthy bucket of salt all that we read! But the upshot is, that I won't be able to relax till the scan.
In the meantime, we pretty much have names sorted for both boy and girl, even though the health authority that we stay in will not state the sex of the wee one. Because of this (and cause they're cool), all being well, later on in the pregnancy we're contemplating getting one of the 3D scans done privately. With a bit of luck, they'll be able to point us down the right direction as to whether it'll be a boy or a girl. It's a cliche, but so long as it's healthy, I really don't mind.
As for my better half, she seems to be coming out of the chronic tiredness that has plagued her for about 6 weeks and which has been a massive frustration for her, seeing as she is normally so active. The bump's starting to show too, and her tummy is mega hard! She's done brilliantly not drinking, and I have cut down by a fair degree too, which makes me feel much better. The more I see her, the more I know she'll be a great mum.
As for me - well, I heard my dad said that he thinks I'll be a good dad. I hope so - it's a privilege to be looked up to in such a way, and for all my past mistakes, I hope I'm up to it. It's a horrible world out there in many ways, so I have to make sure that for bubs and my other half, when we're at home, it's a safe happy place.
And on that note, I'd better get the housework done! More updates, more regularly to come, including Fatherhood books, maternity leave, and the Routine Method!
We're now at 12 weeks and one day pregnant and 2 1/2 inches long, from crown to rump, fingerprints have formed, all major organs are operational and our wee one has a grip reflex which occurs automatically when the hand or foot is stimulated. The real purpose for the rest of the preganancy is for (s)he to grow bigger and stronger in order to survive the outside world.
We've had our booking in appointment with the midwife, who seems as if she knows what she's doing. that's a relief, because the student health visitor who was also there could only manage to hum, haar, coo and caw at anything we said - still, I'm sure it's a learning curve for her as well!
It's our first scan next week, and that's the key time. Until now, what I have found quite weird is that everyone we've told that we are pregnant - and by everyone I mean health professionals - has simply taken our word for it. My wife has given up taking positive pregnancy tests to appointments and given up offering to pee on sticks for people. It's so strange that nobody seems willing to confirm it!
Anyway, the scan is the first chance we really have for someone else - someone in a position of authority - to say "Congratulations, you are right, you're pregnant!" This is what is the scary thing. My wife has spent a fair bit of time online looking at forums, and every other post seems to be about missed miscarriages that haven't been apparent to the unsuspecting mums-to-be. They seem like they're going to their scans and being told "sorry, baby stopped developing x weeks ago".
Whilst such events do happen, they are magnified in their regularity by these forums, where seemingly only bad news is posted. So, we now take with an unhealthy bucket of salt all that we read! But the upshot is, that I won't be able to relax till the scan.
In the meantime, we pretty much have names sorted for both boy and girl, even though the health authority that we stay in will not state the sex of the wee one. Because of this (and cause they're cool), all being well, later on in the pregnancy we're contemplating getting one of the 3D scans done privately. With a bit of luck, they'll be able to point us down the right direction as to whether it'll be a boy or a girl. It's a cliche, but so long as it's healthy, I really don't mind.
As for my better half, she seems to be coming out of the chronic tiredness that has plagued her for about 6 weeks and which has been a massive frustration for her, seeing as she is normally so active. The bump's starting to show too, and her tummy is mega hard! She's done brilliantly not drinking, and I have cut down by a fair degree too, which makes me feel much better. The more I see her, the more I know she'll be a great mum.
As for me - well, I heard my dad said that he thinks I'll be a good dad. I hope so - it's a privilege to be looked up to in such a way, and for all my past mistakes, I hope I'm up to it. It's a horrible world out there in many ways, so I have to make sure that for bubs and my other half, when we're at home, it's a safe happy place.
And on that note, I'd better get the housework done! More updates, more regularly to come, including Fatherhood books, maternity leave, and the Routine Method!
Monday 17 September 2007
6 weeks of symptoms
Weird food cravings, nausea, tiredness during the day, feeling flushed, peeing lots...
... and that's just me!
6 weeks today, bubs has a heartbeat and rudimentary hands - next week it'll have fingers.
I've got an assessment for work today - including fitness test, which I#m not looking forwards to - eek
... and that's just me!
6 weeks today, bubs has a heartbeat and rudimentary hands - next week it'll have fingers.
I've got an assessment for work today - including fitness test, which I#m not looking forwards to - eek
Tuesday 11 September 2007
The long and amazing road
Have been reading today all about the various stages of foetal development, on Baby Center, which is a wealth of information for parents and parents-to-be.
The rate at which a small tadpole turns into a fully functioning mini-dad or mini-mum is staggering.
At the moment we are at week 5, at which time the embryo (not a foetus until week 8 - 21 days to go!) has a heart about the size of a poppy seed, and it's starting to beat about 150 times a minute - isn't that amazing!!
I can tell that it's going to be an arduously long road ahead, even til 8 weeks, which is our first milestone! My fingers and toes are perma-crossed!
The rate at which a small tadpole turns into a fully functioning mini-dad or mini-mum is staggering.
At the moment we are at week 5, at which time the embryo (not a foetus until week 8 - 21 days to go!) has a heart about the size of a poppy seed, and it's starting to beat about 150 times a minute - isn't that amazing!!
I can tell that it's going to be an arduously long road ahead, even til 8 weeks, which is our first milestone! My fingers and toes are perma-crossed!
Thursday 6 September 2007
Day 2
Been reading pregnancy magazines like they're going out of fashion, and spending spare minutes on t'internet researching.
It's funny - in my job, you see a wad of horrible things, and people doing the nastiest things to each other, but you become maybe a bit desensitized to it all. Christ, not now. The world all of a sudden appears to be a big, mean, nasty, dangerous place to bring a wee one into.
I'm also desperate to tell everyone and anyone about our good news, but we're holding off for now, as it's so early. We did tell my mum and dad, who were thrilled, especially as my dad had apparently resigned himself to never having grandkids.
I have also discovered a new motivation is getting our spare room all sorted out, a room which has really lain unchanged since we bought this place over 5 years ago.
It's funny - in my job, you see a wad of horrible things, and people doing the nastiest things to each other, but you become maybe a bit desensitized to it all. Christ, not now. The world all of a sudden appears to be a big, mean, nasty, dangerous place to bring a wee one into.
I'm also desperate to tell everyone and anyone about our good news, but we're holding off for now, as it's so early. We did tell my mum and dad, who were thrilled, especially as my dad had apparently resigned himself to never having grandkids.
I have also discovered a new motivation is getting our spare room all sorted out, a room which has really lain unchanged since we bought this place over 5 years ago.
Wednesday 5 September 2007
The First Post
Hello.
This is my first post in this blog. It's not my first crack at blogging, but it IS the most significant, and it's the only blog I have any interest in maintaining, so it's the only one I'll be adding to from now on.
Who am I?
Well, I'm a police officer, so there'll be stuff in this blog about that, from time to time.
I'm a hubby too, to a wonderful lady who has put up with more than her fair share of my tinkerings, and for that I'm eternally grateful.
And yesterday, I found out I'm going to be a dad in about 8 months and one week - roughly!
So, this morning, I have a blazing hangover, but frankly I don't care :)
We've already done a bit of research into foetus development, and my mini-me is currently the size of a weeny pea, with a heart the size of a poppy seed, so I believe!
It's totally mind blowing to think that we have done this! We decided last month to start trying for a family, but had resigned ourselves to the fact that it may well be a year or so before being successful, so to find out so soon is staggering, especailly since GMTV ran a feature this morning that said up to 35% of couples trying to conceive run into problems. It's early days for us, and we only found out so soon due to the First Response home pregancy kit, which can detect the pregancy hormone very early. So it's fingers crossed just now.
I'm going back to my daze just now, and to think about what we can do with our spare bedroom - cos it's going to be needed!
This is my first post in this blog. It's not my first crack at blogging, but it IS the most significant, and it's the only blog I have any interest in maintaining, so it's the only one I'll be adding to from now on.
Who am I?
Well, I'm a police officer, so there'll be stuff in this blog about that, from time to time.
I'm a hubby too, to a wonderful lady who has put up with more than her fair share of my tinkerings, and for that I'm eternally grateful.
And yesterday, I found out I'm going to be a dad in about 8 months and one week - roughly!
So, this morning, I have a blazing hangover, but frankly I don't care :)
We've already done a bit of research into foetus development, and my mini-me is currently the size of a weeny pea, with a heart the size of a poppy seed, so I believe!
It's totally mind blowing to think that we have done this! We decided last month to start trying for a family, but had resigned ourselves to the fact that it may well be a year or so before being successful, so to find out so soon is staggering, especailly since GMTV ran a feature this morning that said up to 35% of couples trying to conceive run into problems. It's early days for us, and we only found out so soon due to the First Response home pregancy kit, which can detect the pregancy hormone very early. So it's fingers crossed just now.
I'm going back to my daze just now, and to think about what we can do with our spare bedroom - cos it's going to be needed!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)