The missus is looking proper pregnant now, more than four months in. We've done the scouting for nursery furniture, baby buggies etc. but not bought anything yet due to severe superstition.
Two events, one just passed and one coming up, are going to add some closure to our youth for sure. The first was a trip to see the new movie about Glastonbury. Hard to see how the director could have captured the essence of that festival any better - it was brilliant. Glasto was where we met so has a special place in our hearts, although we'd decided to 'retire' even before the imminent sprog became an issue.
That, plus hormones, was perhaps why the missus blubbed like a baby throughout most of it. It was tears for her youth, for our youth (we were 'only' 30 when we met) and for times now gone. There was also an element of fear for the future too - something I'm well familiar with.
Now we're preparing for our last 'proper' holiday as just the two of us, also a watershed moment. And where better than Las Vegas to mark this particular rite of passage. It's an incredible, crazy fantasy land, inspiration for my favourite book (Fear and Loathing...) and something of a historial obsession for me in recent years.
When that's done, we'll be seriously knuckling down to preparations, including the NCT courses and all that jazz.
In two weeks time we also get to find out the gender of the nipper....gulp!
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
April in Paris...
...as the old master Sinatra once sang. We're off for a night in the city of love this weekend, part of a farewell tour of places we like to go that will hopefully be complete come September, when it's Center Parcs or bust from there on in.
Latest medical bulletin is good, although the doc did point out that the sprog is quite 'large' - this will come as no surprise to anyone who knows me...
Apparently its size is going to be closely monitored in the coming months and if it gets too big it will be induced early, so spare the missus from undue punishment. Guess this means it might be a boy, although there's always the possibility of a strapping lass I suppose, perhaps a candidate for the England women's cricket team?
All will be revealed anyway at the next scan.
We've signed up for the NCT course that everybody goes on about. This will mean 'networking' with other prospective parents - yuck! I'd just so rather keep myself to myself. Still, needs must...practical nappy changing, here I come!
Latest medical bulletin is good, although the doc did point out that the sprog is quite 'large' - this will come as no surprise to anyone who knows me...
Apparently its size is going to be closely monitored in the coming months and if it gets too big it will be induced early, so spare the missus from undue punishment. Guess this means it might be a boy, although there's always the possibility of a strapping lass I suppose, perhaps a candidate for the England women's cricket team?
All will be revealed anyway at the next scan.
We've signed up for the NCT course that everybody goes on about. This will mean 'networking' with other prospective parents - yuck! I'd just so rather keep myself to myself. Still, needs must...practical nappy changing, here I come!
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Reality bites...
Went to a crap concert on the South Bank last night....well not crap so much as just not my thing- we expected experimental jazz and we got something akin to incidental music from a BBC Sunday evening drama of the 1980s.
Anyway, that's not the point. The point, such as it is, was that my gig-going friend and myself were chatting in the bar having refused to go back in for the second half of the show and we started making tentative plans for the missus and I to see my friend and his wife in their new house in the country.
I finished the conversation with "Well we'd better get this sorted while we can, becasue it'll be a right pain in the arse to venture down to you come September..." This is especially apposite to my friend and his wife who are child-free and, it's fair to say, have been something of a role model couple to us in living a lifestyle full of art, culture, music and campaigning politics.
And at that point I had a moment of realisation... my life in its present form really is going to end soon. It's not hit me that much so far because the idea of being a dad is still so hypothetical. We're no longer going to be able to live our lives to our own heart's desire, going anywhere will require intricate planning and pin-sharp project management... and time to ourselves? Fuhgeddaboudit!
Regular gig-going? You can forget that too, buster. Disappearing off for evenings of fun and frolics while the missus grapples with dirty nappies to the soundtrack of ear-splitting crying is likely to make me about as popular as a pork pie at a Bar Mitzvah.
Oh well, I've had a spectacularly good innings. For Christ's sake I'm almost 40! What I haven't managed to do by now I'll probably never be able to afford anyway, sprog or no sprog....
Anyway, that's not the point. The point, such as it is, was that my gig-going friend and myself were chatting in the bar having refused to go back in for the second half of the show and we started making tentative plans for the missus and I to see my friend and his wife in their new house in the country.
I finished the conversation with "Well we'd better get this sorted while we can, becasue it'll be a right pain in the arse to venture down to you come September..." This is especially apposite to my friend and his wife who are child-free and, it's fair to say, have been something of a role model couple to us in living a lifestyle full of art, culture, music and campaigning politics.
And at that point I had a moment of realisation... my life in its present form really is going to end soon. It's not hit me that much so far because the idea of being a dad is still so hypothetical. We're no longer going to be able to live our lives to our own heart's desire, going anywhere will require intricate planning and pin-sharp project management... and time to ourselves? Fuhgeddaboudit!
Regular gig-going? You can forget that too, buster. Disappearing off for evenings of fun and frolics while the missus grapples with dirty nappies to the soundtrack of ear-splitting crying is likely to make me about as popular as a pork pie at a Bar Mitzvah.
Oh well, I've had a spectacularly good innings. For Christ's sake I'm almost 40! What I haven't managed to do by now I'll probably never be able to afford anyway, sprog or no sprog....
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
All quiet...
Been a bit quiet on the old nipper front lately. I guess these periods of nothing much happening are all part of the process. Missus isn't even getting much fatter, at least not noticeably.
Going slightly off-topic, I'm feeling quite pleased with myself at completing a half marathon in an OK time. Given that in my school days I once failed to finish a 400m race due to fatigue, I reckon that represents good progress.
My utter lack of sporting skill is bested only by the missus, who lacks neither the basic hand/eye co-ordination to be a hacker at tennis nor the concentration to play golf. Not a good omen for our offspring if it happens to be a boy - it's all but certain to be a ginger and to be crap at sports as well just about guarnatees exclusion from any "cool clubs" within the playground jungle.
Oh well, there's always the Dungeons and Dragons society I suppose....
Going slightly off-topic, I'm feeling quite pleased with myself at completing a half marathon in an OK time. Given that in my school days I once failed to finish a 400m race due to fatigue, I reckon that represents good progress.
My utter lack of sporting skill is bested only by the missus, who lacks neither the basic hand/eye co-ordination to be a hacker at tennis nor the concentration to play golf. Not a good omen for our offspring if it happens to be a boy - it's all but certain to be a ginger and to be crap at sports as well just about guarnatees exclusion from any "cool clubs" within the playground jungle.
Oh well, there's always the Dungeons and Dragons society I suppose....
Monday, March 06, 2006
No God only religion
It's not (just) a rather contrived way to get a Spiritualized song title into the headline bar, there is a real purpose behind this post as well, because we've been discussing the issue of Christening, etc.
I must admit that I was keen from the outset to do this, although I expected a degree of resistance from the missus, who is an atheist, and I would have let her hold sway should that have been the case.
But no, she seems happy to go along with it, reasoning quite fairly that it can make its own mind up about these matters in due course, but that baptism as an adult is a bit embarrassing to all concerned, so why not at least get that part done early doors.
There are several spin-offs to this:
1) It gets the in-laws together for the first time since the wedding, always good for a giggle
2) It's an excuse to get the boys together to "wet the baby's head"
3) We get to nominate God-parentage, which, although it's a ceremonial role is nonetheless a nice thing to bestow on someone.
I've no idea how to go about sorting any of this out, but I'm sure that, just like with every other minutiae of child rearing, there will be no shortage of help and avice from the world of publishing....
I must admit that I was keen from the outset to do this, although I expected a degree of resistance from the missus, who is an atheist, and I would have let her hold sway should that have been the case.
But no, she seems happy to go along with it, reasoning quite fairly that it can make its own mind up about these matters in due course, but that baptism as an adult is a bit embarrassing to all concerned, so why not at least get that part done early doors.
There are several spin-offs to this:
1) It gets the in-laws together for the first time since the wedding, always good for a giggle
2) It's an excuse to get the boys together to "wet the baby's head"
3) We get to nominate God-parentage, which, although it's a ceremonial role is nonetheless a nice thing to bestow on someone.
I've no idea how to go about sorting any of this out, but I'm sure that, just like with every other minutiae of child rearing, there will be no shortage of help and avice from the world of publishing....
Thursday, March 02, 2006
And now, the tears subside....
...but thank God they're tears of joy and relief!
Never, ever in my whole life have I undergone anything as butt-clenchingly stressful as the last week. But finally we've got the 'all clear'...or at least as all clear as these things can be.
In fact the doc used the very words "as good as it could be" about our test result, with the risk of Down's or similar nasties dropping to a much more comfortable 2,400 to 1. At last the benefits of the missus' healthy lifestyle bear fruit!!
I've only just stopped shaking enough to be able type properly (I still wouldn't fancy my chances of holding a cup of coffee without it ending up in my lap) and there'll be more tears yet before bedtime, to be sure.
God knows what the poor buggers who were going into the clinic thought as they passed us leaving both in floods of tears - if I'd have been them I'd have turned tail and fled...if only I could have actually spoken words at that point I've have told them it was tears of joy not pain, but my mouth was refusing to issue anything more than a pathetic whimper by then.
I think I'm going to start a campaign to ban hospitals from revealing these ridiculous generalised odds of problems occurring until they've actually done the proper bloody tests! Keep it to yourselves, you fuckers, you've no idea of the heartache you've caused!
So now we call tell everyone the good news, which will be a complete relief. Some will be very surprised indeed, especially anyone who has listened to me talking on this subject before.
And we can start to think properly about the challenges ahead, which to be honest fill me with dread right now. However, all being well there's no turning back, we're at the top of the rollercoaster and just about to pass that point where you pick up speed and your stomach starts to move skywards.
Hold tight!
Never, ever in my whole life have I undergone anything as butt-clenchingly stressful as the last week. But finally we've got the 'all clear'...or at least as all clear as these things can be.
In fact the doc used the very words "as good as it could be" about our test result, with the risk of Down's or similar nasties dropping to a much more comfortable 2,400 to 1. At last the benefits of the missus' healthy lifestyle bear fruit!!
I've only just stopped shaking enough to be able type properly (I still wouldn't fancy my chances of holding a cup of coffee without it ending up in my lap) and there'll be more tears yet before bedtime, to be sure.
God knows what the poor buggers who were going into the clinic thought as they passed us leaving both in floods of tears - if I'd have been them I'd have turned tail and fled...if only I could have actually spoken words at that point I've have told them it was tears of joy not pain, but my mouth was refusing to issue anything more than a pathetic whimper by then.
I think I'm going to start a campaign to ban hospitals from revealing these ridiculous generalised odds of problems occurring until they've actually done the proper bloody tests! Keep it to yourselves, you fuckers, you've no idea of the heartache you've caused!
So now we call tell everyone the good news, which will be a complete relief. Some will be very surprised indeed, especially anyone who has listened to me talking on this subject before.
And we can start to think properly about the challenges ahead, which to be honest fill me with dread right now. However, all being well there's no turning back, we're at the top of the rollercoaster and just about to pass that point where you pick up speed and your stomach starts to move skywards.
Hold tight!
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Tomorrow never knows....
Well, just one day to go before the big test.
The shock of our last visit to the hospital has given way to a degree of resignation (after all, there's nothing I can do) coupled with some optimism after hearing a number of stories from people who've been through this and found their chances of dodging the bullet significantly improved after the tests.
By the way, if I ever I wanted to demonstrate my lack of knowledge in these matters I managed it quite easily in my last post. I've discovered that the syndrome in question is not "Downs", as in the former Norwich City defensive stalwart Greg Downs, but is in fact "Down's". Apologies to any pedants out there.
I haven't been able to get my mind away from this situation all week. I can't bear to look at the scan photograph of the foetus they gave us at the hospital, in case it tempts fate. I've even been ill, and I am never, ever ill.
For someone who has previously viewed children as a royal pain in the arse to be avoided at all costs these are strange times indeed...
Fingers crossed.
The shock of our last visit to the hospital has given way to a degree of resignation (after all, there's nothing I can do) coupled with some optimism after hearing a number of stories from people who've been through this and found their chances of dodging the bullet significantly improved after the tests.
By the way, if I ever I wanted to demonstrate my lack of knowledge in these matters I managed it quite easily in my last post. I've discovered that the syndrome in question is not "Downs", as in the former Norwich City defensive stalwart Greg Downs, but is in fact "Down's". Apologies to any pedants out there.
I haven't been able to get my mind away from this situation all week. I can't bear to look at the scan photograph of the foetus they gave us at the hospital, in case it tempts fate. I've even been ill, and I am never, ever ill.
For someone who has previously viewed children as a royal pain in the arse to be avoided at all costs these are strange times indeed...
Fingers crossed.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
A bad day...
I'm a keen gambler so I know quite a bit about playing the odds. Unfortunately you can store what I know about the childbirth process on a back of a stamp.
These two factors have conspired to make this a bad day, when it should have been a great one. You see we've had the initial scan that shows there's actually a baby there, which is great.
Then they sit us down and tell us that because of the missus' age the risk of it having Downs is potentially 1 in 190 or worse. Jesus.
I was aware that these risks got higher the older the mother is, but I always assumed that we were talking about one in two thousand rather than, say, one in a million if mum is in her early 20s.
How wrong I clearly was. An optimist might say that it still represents about a 99.5% chance things will be OK, but look at it another way - if I was in a room of 190 people and we all had a raffle ticket, I would wait around for first prize to be drawn coz I'd think I had a puncher's chance at those odds.
And I'm sorry for any pro-lifers reading this...I am barely going to be man enough to cope with fatherhood if everything is tickety-boo, I'm certainly not going to be able to cope with a Downs child.
So now we're on tenterhooks until some more definitive tests can be done next week. If we're lucky our risk factor will move up the scale into the 'safer' categories of 1 in 340 or higher (still not great, but beginning to be comforting odds).
If we're not, it could go the other way, then we have to think about nasty invasive testing that is definitive but opens up a small but significant risk of miscarriage. What a position to find yourself in, having to make that judgement call....
This is a very bad day...with luck it will prove to be the worst day and things will be OK. I'm not ready to contemplate worse days ahead right now...
These two factors have conspired to make this a bad day, when it should have been a great one. You see we've had the initial scan that shows there's actually a baby there, which is great.
Then they sit us down and tell us that because of the missus' age the risk of it having Downs is potentially 1 in 190 or worse. Jesus.
I was aware that these risks got higher the older the mother is, but I always assumed that we were talking about one in two thousand rather than, say, one in a million if mum is in her early 20s.
How wrong I clearly was. An optimist might say that it still represents about a 99.5% chance things will be OK, but look at it another way - if I was in a room of 190 people and we all had a raffle ticket, I would wait around for first prize to be drawn coz I'd think I had a puncher's chance at those odds.
And I'm sorry for any pro-lifers reading this...I am barely going to be man enough to cope with fatherhood if everything is tickety-boo, I'm certainly not going to be able to cope with a Downs child.
So now we're on tenterhooks until some more definitive tests can be done next week. If we're lucky our risk factor will move up the scale into the 'safer' categories of 1 in 340 or higher (still not great, but beginning to be comforting odds).
If we're not, it could go the other way, then we have to think about nasty invasive testing that is definitive but opens up a small but significant risk of miscarriage. What a position to find yourself in, having to make that judgement call....
This is a very bad day...with luck it will prove to be the worst day and things will be OK. I'm not ready to contemplate worse days ahead right now...
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
The seven ages of me...
I'm not sure who first said that kids keep you young, but so far the complete reverse seems to be happening to me.
Since finding out about my impending parenthood I've felt the crushing onset of middle age - many would say not a day too soon....
Luckily it's not the accompanying decrepitude - I'm slimmer, fitter and healthier than I've been all my adult life.
No, it's more of a cultural and psychological shift. Over the past 20 years I've basically been doing the same things as I did when I was 18 years old. Pubs, gigs, movies, football etc etc. It's easy to see why women often complain about their men not growing up!
Now, though, I've felt a real change come over me. I've become utterly disinterested in the "indie" guitar music that sustained me through literally hundreds of gigs over the years. I'd so much rather listen to Frank Sinatra than the Arctic Monkeys.
I find I'm preferring to stay at home rather than go out, eat nice home-cooked meals (some even cooked by myself!) and watch a DVD rather than stand in a smoky pub with a pint of over-priced lager - Jesus, what's come over me?
Still, I guess it's great preparation for when I have to do all this through necessity rather than by choice. Maybe I have finally grown up after all.
Since finding out about my impending parenthood I've felt the crushing onset of middle age - many would say not a day too soon....
Luckily it's not the accompanying decrepitude - I'm slimmer, fitter and healthier than I've been all my adult life.
No, it's more of a cultural and psychological shift. Over the past 20 years I've basically been doing the same things as I did when I was 18 years old. Pubs, gigs, movies, football etc etc. It's easy to see why women often complain about their men not growing up!
Now, though, I've felt a real change come over me. I've become utterly disinterested in the "indie" guitar music that sustained me through literally hundreds of gigs over the years. I'd so much rather listen to Frank Sinatra than the Arctic Monkeys.
I find I'm preferring to stay at home rather than go out, eat nice home-cooked meals (some even cooked by myself!) and watch a DVD rather than stand in a smoky pub with a pint of over-priced lager - Jesus, what's come over me?
Still, I guess it's great preparation for when I have to do all this through necessity rather than by choice. Maybe I have finally grown up after all.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
"Bear!" he boomed....
Another first, and more good match practice, with my inaugural reading of a bedtime story. My nephew was the recipient and it seemed to go quite well...I even did some different voices for the dialogue.
Mind you, it was the evergreen Paddington Bear, a personal favourite anyway.
I'm now trying really hard to look upon children not as alien creatures that should be avoided at all costs, but as people to be understood and communicated with. Not easy after all these years, but going surprisingly well so far I reckon.
My parents were naturally delighted about the news - it was good just to tell somebody else after all the subterfuge and secrecy. Although I thought my dad's "Oh, I'd better hang on a bit longer then if I've got a grandchild coming" was a bit unnecessarily pessimistic, even for him. No prizes for guessing where I get it from...
It'll soon be time for the moment of truth, the three-month scan. It's sure to be a tense time, because there are of course no guarantees given our age.
But for now, the good ship parenthood is set fair for a good wind and a smooth sea. All aboard!!
Mind you, it was the evergreen Paddington Bear, a personal favourite anyway.
I'm now trying really hard to look upon children not as alien creatures that should be avoided at all costs, but as people to be understood and communicated with. Not easy after all these years, but going surprisingly well so far I reckon.
My parents were naturally delighted about the news - it was good just to tell somebody else after all the subterfuge and secrecy. Although I thought my dad's "Oh, I'd better hang on a bit longer then if I've got a grandchild coming" was a bit unnecessarily pessimistic, even for him. No prizes for guessing where I get it from...
It'll soon be time for the moment of truth, the three-month scan. It's sure to be a tense time, because there are of course no guarantees given our age.
But for now, the good ship parenthood is set fair for a good wind and a smooth sea. All aboard!!
Monday, January 30, 2006
Books etc...
It'll be time soon to start stocking up on the "pregnancy for dads" books, I guess.
I've already noted some websites on this subject helpfully published this week in the Sunday Times (for me? How kind...) and I bet the shelves of Books etc. are groaning under the weight of various tomes designed to help us pending dads (reluctant or otherwise) make the most of the whole experience.
Who knows? At the end of all this I might write one myself, using all this blog piffle as a basis. Or not, as the case may be.
The missus' parents now know and are understandably delighted about it, especially the father-in-law, who had probably given up hope of grandchildren, so emphatic have we been about not procreating in the past.
My folks get the news next, which will be an interesting experience given that my most recent communications on the subject included an adamant assertation along the "over my dead body" lines...
Soon the news will have to get out to the wider masses. Some must already suspect, and the missus' post-Christmas detox ruse is really only good for January, after which it's going to look pretty bloody odd!
I'll be quite glad when it's all in the public domain, to be honest. A bit of good news amid the usual doom and gloom of a London winter.
I've already noted some websites on this subject helpfully published this week in the Sunday Times (for me? How kind...) and I bet the shelves of Books etc. are groaning under the weight of various tomes designed to help us pending dads (reluctant or otherwise) make the most of the whole experience.
Who knows? At the end of all this I might write one myself, using all this blog piffle as a basis. Or not, as the case may be.
The missus' parents now know and are understandably delighted about it, especially the father-in-law, who had probably given up hope of grandchildren, so emphatic have we been about not procreating in the past.
My folks get the news next, which will be an interesting experience given that my most recent communications on the subject included an adamant assertation along the "over my dead body" lines...
Soon the news will have to get out to the wider masses. Some must already suspect, and the missus' post-Christmas detox ruse is really only good for January, after which it's going to look pretty bloody odd!
I'll be quite glad when it's all in the public domain, to be honest. A bit of good news amid the usual doom and gloom of a London winter.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
The philosophical challenge...
Most of the hand-wringing displayed on here so far will be familiar to anyone who has entered the wacky world of prospective parenthood.
I have an additional philosophical challenge to overcome.
You see, I strongly believe that the human race is rotten to the core, and that this planet would be vastly improved by our complete removal from it. If you passed me a button that could wipe us all out I'd push it without a second's hesitation.
That's quite a tough world view to square with the fact that I've now become party to the human race's continuing survival!
I look on in despair at our obsession with TV freak shows, at the total lack of civility that exists in the city where I live, at the sheer evil of those four pointless, verminous scumbags sentenced yesterday for that so-called 'happy slapping' murder (for murder it was, forget that manslaughter nonsense).
I always managed to stay on top of it all by thinking that I would do my best to enjoy my life as the world around me deteriorated, then I'd shuffle off this mortal coil before things really went to hell in a handcart.
Now I'm potentially handing on the poisoned chalice to an offspring facing God knows what as a future in our polluted, intolerant, violent and hateful world.
Oh boy....
Something a bit more lighthearted next time round, I promise!
I have an additional philosophical challenge to overcome.
You see, I strongly believe that the human race is rotten to the core, and that this planet would be vastly improved by our complete removal from it. If you passed me a button that could wipe us all out I'd push it without a second's hesitation.
That's quite a tough world view to square with the fact that I've now become party to the human race's continuing survival!
I look on in despair at our obsession with TV freak shows, at the total lack of civility that exists in the city where I live, at the sheer evil of those four pointless, verminous scumbags sentenced yesterday for that so-called 'happy slapping' murder (for murder it was, forget that manslaughter nonsense).
I always managed to stay on top of it all by thinking that I would do my best to enjoy my life as the world around me deteriorated, then I'd shuffle off this mortal coil before things really went to hell in a handcart.
Now I'm potentially handing on the poisoned chalice to an offspring facing God knows what as a future in our polluted, intolerant, violent and hateful world.
Oh boy....
Something a bit more lighthearted next time round, I promise!
Monday, January 23, 2006
FOREVERFOREVERFOREVERFOREVER...
Just had the first sleepless "Oh My God" night.
Sudden realisation that this really is forever, better or worse. We visit our friends and relatives and briefly touch their children's lives, noting how they've grown, etc. But in a few months' time we're going to have another human being dropped slap bang into our lives. Like every hour, every day. For whom we're 100% responsible.... most likely until the day we die.
Bloody hell.
Can I go back to being worried about whether someone is going to bash into/steal my car, or whether my football team are going to go up this year, instead please?
P.S.
By the way, I should point out that this blog is in no way connected to the mayfly-brief, two-post effort "Reluctant Dad" which also appears on this site. He didn't sound a happy chappy - maybe he drowned in his own bile before being able to post further....
Always make sure you put a "the" in the title to get my nonsense.
Sudden realisation that this really is forever, better or worse. We visit our friends and relatives and briefly touch their children's lives, noting how they've grown, etc. But in a few months' time we're going to have another human being dropped slap bang into our lives. Like every hour, every day. For whom we're 100% responsible.... most likely until the day we die.
Bloody hell.
Can I go back to being worried about whether someone is going to bash into/steal my car, or whether my football team are going to go up this year, instead please?
P.S.
By the way, I should point out that this blog is in no way connected to the mayfly-brief, two-post effort "Reluctant Dad" which also appears on this site. He didn't sound a happy chappy - maybe he drowned in his own bile before being able to post further....
Always make sure you put a "the" in the title to get my nonsense.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
First time for everything....
I did something today that I've never done before. I played with a small child and actually enjoyed it.
Just a brief game not dissimilar to pat-a-cakes with our friend's one-year-old (she was clearly fascinated by my hands being about a hundred times bigger than hers) but a real breakthrough in many ways.
I'd previously found the idea of interacting with small children about as tempting as frying my own feet. Even my niece and nephew, bless 'em, had to grow up into fully-fledged, talking, ball-playing youngsters before I got remotely interested.
So this is a change - proper eye-contact, touchy-feely interaction. And not ghastly, as it happens...
In other news, the missus says I've never been so nice to her as in the days since the fateful morning the lines turned pink. Although given that she expected me to run away I guess this is nothing to feel too smug about.
Truth is, I do feel kind of closer to her right now. This is no small event we're coming to terms with and it's only right and proper that of the two ways it could have driven us, we've ended up on the positive path.
There'll be tears and trouble ahead, for sure, so we'd better enjoy this while it lasts!
Just a brief game not dissimilar to pat-a-cakes with our friend's one-year-old (she was clearly fascinated by my hands being about a hundred times bigger than hers) but a real breakthrough in many ways.
I'd previously found the idea of interacting with small children about as tempting as frying my own feet. Even my niece and nephew, bless 'em, had to grow up into fully-fledged, talking, ball-playing youngsters before I got remotely interested.
So this is a change - proper eye-contact, touchy-feely interaction. And not ghastly, as it happens...
In other news, the missus says I've never been so nice to her as in the days since the fateful morning the lines turned pink. Although given that she expected me to run away I guess this is nothing to feel too smug about.
Truth is, I do feel kind of closer to her right now. This is no small event we're coming to terms with and it's only right and proper that of the two ways it could have driven us, we've ended up on the positive path.
There'll be tears and trouble ahead, for sure, so we'd better enjoy this while it lasts!
Saturday, January 21, 2006
The pros and cons...
OK, the good points about parenthood:
1. Taking the sprog in its pushchair for a stroll on Hampstead Heath
2. Finally getting the relatives off my back... no more sideways looks and plaintive demands because we've got no kids
3. Er....can't think of any more at the moment...
And the bad points:
1. Puke and shit
2. Sleepless nights
3. Ear-splitting crying for no reason whatsoever
4. Post-natal depression
5. Poverty
6. Severely curtailed social life
7. The risk of creating an ASBO-magnet troublemaker
8. It might choose to support Arsenal
Actually I better stop there, until I started this post I was beginning to come round to the idea of parenthood....
1. Taking the sprog in its pushchair for a stroll on Hampstead Heath
2. Finally getting the relatives off my back... no more sideways looks and plaintive demands because we've got no kids
3. Er....can't think of any more at the moment...
And the bad points:
1. Puke and shit
2. Sleepless nights
3. Ear-splitting crying for no reason whatsoever
4. Post-natal depression
5. Poverty
6. Severely curtailed social life
7. The risk of creating an ASBO-magnet troublemaker
8. It might choose to support Arsenal
Actually I better stop there, until I started this post I was beginning to come round to the idea of parenthood....
Friday, January 20, 2006
Shock and disbelief...
I've had one or two excitements in my otherwise average life.
Man Utd's last-gasp victory in the European Cup in 1999 was pretty special. I can also remember winning a £100 fruit machine jackpot as a young lad, especially that little heart skip as the last treble-bar came in.
But nothing prepares you for discovering that you're going to be a dad, especially when you're not, to use that terminally annoying phrase, "trying for a baby" in the first place.
Bloody hell. My life is never going to be the same.
I'm still at the point where I'm struggling to believe it's true, even though I know it is.
And you know what? I really don't mind. I thought I might hurl myself off the nearest high building if such news was ever presented before me. The missus clearly felt the same becaue it took her several days to pluck up the courage to take the test, fearing my reaction might not be entirely positive...
But what can you do? I believe strongly in fate, and that you must play the hand that life deals you. There's absolutely no question of getting rid of it - I'm no bible-bashing, pro-life hickster but I have a moral code that says: "you made the bed, you gotta lie in it".
That said, my head's a whirl. In a day or two I'll rationalise it, I guess....
Man Utd's last-gasp victory in the European Cup in 1999 was pretty special. I can also remember winning a £100 fruit machine jackpot as a young lad, especially that little heart skip as the last treble-bar came in.
But nothing prepares you for discovering that you're going to be a dad, especially when you're not, to use that terminally annoying phrase, "trying for a baby" in the first place.
Bloody hell. My life is never going to be the same.
I'm still at the point where I'm struggling to believe it's true, even though I know it is.
And you know what? I really don't mind. I thought I might hurl myself off the nearest high building if such news was ever presented before me. The missus clearly felt the same becaue it took her several days to pluck up the courage to take the test, fearing my reaction might not be entirely positive...
But what can you do? I believe strongly in fate, and that you must play the hand that life deals you. There's absolutely no question of getting rid of it - I'm no bible-bashing, pro-life hickster but I have a moral code that says: "you made the bed, you gotta lie in it".
That said, my head's a whirl. In a day or two I'll rationalise it, I guess....
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Like finding out you've won the pools....
...when you hadn't realised you'd filled the coupon in.
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when the missus brought back the pregnancy tester with the telltale pink lines there for all to see. Must be a mistake, I thought, how accurate are those things?
A quick look at the instructions revealed "can sometimes say you aren't when you are, but NEVER that you are when you aren't". Oh well, I guess that clears that one up then...
I should explain. I've never wanted to have kids, not ever, not for a second in all my years. The missus knew that when we married and she felt the same. As the years rolled by she came round to the idea, but I didn't. It was indeed a source of much strife before an accommodation (well, actually me getting my way entirely) was reached.
We didn't exactly take care between the sheets, but we weren't that careless either. We basically weren't "trying for a baby" - a phrase that still makes me want to look skywards and furrow my brow.
Friends our age who really wanted kids had either been forced to basically give up after repeated failures or resorted to crazy measures to conceive. And I'm talking about temeprature testing to find the optimal moment of ovulation and all that shit. Jesus, imagine as a bloke having to perform under those "one hit" conditions - like Edward Fox in bloody Day of the Jackal.
But not us, oh no! No messing about, bop bop bop! Even when we didn't want to....
So there you go. The next entry will be about dealing with the shock and consternation. I intend this blog to be an honest, warts and all record of what promises to be an extraordinary year. Happy reading!
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when the missus brought back the pregnancy tester with the telltale pink lines there for all to see. Must be a mistake, I thought, how accurate are those things?
A quick look at the instructions revealed "can sometimes say you aren't when you are, but NEVER that you are when you aren't". Oh well, I guess that clears that one up then...
I should explain. I've never wanted to have kids, not ever, not for a second in all my years. The missus knew that when we married and she felt the same. As the years rolled by she came round to the idea, but I didn't. It was indeed a source of much strife before an accommodation (well, actually me getting my way entirely) was reached.
We didn't exactly take care between the sheets, but we weren't that careless either. We basically weren't "trying for a baby" - a phrase that still makes me want to look skywards and furrow my brow.
Friends our age who really wanted kids had either been forced to basically give up after repeated failures or resorted to crazy measures to conceive. And I'm talking about temeprature testing to find the optimal moment of ovulation and all that shit. Jesus, imagine as a bloke having to perform under those "one hit" conditions - like Edward Fox in bloody Day of the Jackal.
But not us, oh no! No messing about, bop bop bop! Even when we didn't want to....
So there you go. The next entry will be about dealing with the shock and consternation. I intend this blog to be an honest, warts and all record of what promises to be an extraordinary year. Happy reading!
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