What the books say you should do:
"Chat constantly with your baby. Perhaps give a commentary to everything that you do together! Such interaction will promote socialization and language aquisition!"
What you probably shouldn't do:
Think that reading the Sunday Times out loud constitutes a 'two birds with one stone' strategy. Likewise Radio 4.
What the books say:
"Share special high contrast picture books with your baby. Watch his face as he reacts with interest!"
What you probably shouldn't do:
Prop a baby book against the side of the cot to assuage your guilt that your baby is awake and alert in the morning several hours before you are.
The books advise:
"Learn to differentiate between your baby's different cries. Is he hungry? Tired? Crying is your baby's way of communicating without words!"
You probably shouldn't:
Learn to recognise the particular wimper which translates as "I'm hungry, but you've got at least ten minutes more in bed before I get really distressed."
The books say you should:
"Establish a relaxing bedtime routine. A bath, pyjamas, perhaps a few lullabies, before placing baby quietly to sleep in is cot."
They dont tell you to:
Come home from work and instantly swoop a soundly sleeping baby from his crib, insisting that the few grunts and wimpers you heard mean he is distressed and in urgent need of some "Daddy time".
The books say:
"Lie baby in his cot when he is drowsy but awake, thus encouraging him to learn to self soothe. Enjoy a relaxing evening with your partner!"
Thus it is no doubt terrible to:
Continue to keep your baby on the sofa with you long after he has fallen asleep, because you just don't want to stop holding him in your arms and watching him sleep. The parenting books forgot to mention that bit.
Zoe:
'Well good morning my little sugarpuff.'
'There there, don't cry honey pot.'
'Hello sweetpea!'
Bruno:
'Hello little Cornish pastie!'
Paediatrician: 'It's nothing to worry about, that's a typical newborn rash. I'd just leave it to clear up on it's own. No need to apply any creams or anything.'
Z: 'That's what I thought. I haven't been putting anything on it, I thought that would probably just make it worse.'
Paed: 'That's right! You see! That's the maternal instinct right there! You instinctively knew what was the best way to treat your child. It never ceases to amaze me. '
-------
Later: 'Bruno, do you think we should be concerned that our paediatrician doesn't appear to know about Google?'
Heard in my house earlier this week:
"You know, I'd enjoy watching Children in Need if it wasn't for all those video clips of needy children."
What! She's rubbing cream in! I hate that! But it's on my face, and I love having my face stroked. So am I loving this or hating it? Is this the baby version of a Camberwell carrot or is it an outrage?
Cry or sleep? Cry or sleep? This is just too much of a quandry for my tender age.
*WAIL*
*snooze*
*WAIL*
*snooze*
*WAIL*
*snooze*...
Imagine that you had a tiny two week old baby, and that you were just coming to grips with your first few days at home alone. Then imagine that you had a friend who came round in the afternoon and,
1. Brought with her all the ingredients necessary to make you a delicious lunch,
2. Sat and enjoyed a nice big glass of wine with you as you ate said lunch,
3. Brought your baby a present which was actually useful,
4. Held your baby for ages so that you could go and dye your roots, the last remaining thing that you needed to do to feel back in the land of the living.
Wouldn't such a friend be worth her weight in gold?
Earlier this evening Bruno trotted off to the birthday party next door, while I stayed behind pacing the floor with a very unhappy little chap as he painfully squeezed out one eye-watering fart after another.
Shortly after Bruno called me from next door to tell me what a great party I was missing out on, I changed a nappy which was so full of radioactive poo that it was nearly disintegrating. As I changed his nappy, little chap continued to poo. And poo. And poo. The resulting pile of nappy and baby wipes had to be double-bagged in perfumed nappy sacks.
As I sat and rocked a now sweeter smelling but still wide awake little chap, serenading him with every song I knew to drown out the noise of the obviously joyous party going on next door, I looked down at the little body which was slowly sending my arm into a painful numbness.
And then he looked up at me with his huge eyes, and I was hit with a wave of love so powerful that I thought my heart would explode. What a brilliant evening with my little chap.
I don't care what the Swiss-Mothering-Fascists say; if I ever meet the person who invented this, I'm just going to give them a great big High Five.
You may think that you've seen more beautiful babies, but you'd just be wrong.
