Here Come the Girls

I’ve got my first night out with the local ‘new mums’ tomorrow night and I’m beside myself with fear. Well, fears actually. One - What to wear. And Two, How to cope drinking more than half a glass of wine.

I’ve had nightmares about being dressed like Beth Ditto and the night ending in a pub brawl that I start.

Help me Google! I asked, ‘What to wear on my first night out since having a baby’.

What I really didn’t need Google to do was hit back with pictures of Nicole Kidman, Jessica Alba and co on their first outings since having their babies. Have you seen them? Here’s a run down. They are dressed head to toe in fabulous designer (clean) clothes, have gorgeous, thick and bouncy hair and immaculate make up. Oh, and just in case you hadn't noticed, there's oodles of text on how quickly they snapped back to their quadruple zero figures immediately after giving birth.

Hmm. I can only guess that Google is still a bit sore that I called it a kill joy and this is its way of getting back at me.

I’m also having boob issues. OK, so I always have boob issues so there’s nothing unusual in itself there but this time it’s different. This time the issue is, what the hell are you up to, boobs? What bloody size are you and why is one of you bigger than the other? I’ve sent off for a dozen or so bras to try and reign these puppies in and hope to god they arrive in time; otherwise I’ll be spending the evening with my arms folded. Which means I’ll then need to drink through a straw and I recall from my dim and distant Uni days that you get drunk even more quickly if you drink through a straw.

Let me confide in you…..I’m actually terrified at the prospect of going out drinking. I can’t remember the last time I went out drinking. Sure, I’ve had a few glasses of champers at home with Google Daddy and friends since Google Baby has arrived, but I haven’t been out drinking for well over a year. One drink is enough to make me drunk. The Russian roulette game here being - what kind of drunk? A happy, chatty drunk or a hormonal, emotional drunk who will cry at the drop of a wine glass. Place your bets now!

Is it possible to fake drinking? Should I pop into the bar before hand and pay the barman/woman off so that every time I ask for a G&T they just give me the tonic?

I asked Google how to fake drinking and it came up with a whole host of ways to fake your age so you can drink. Somehow, I suspect the endless sleepless nights have addressed any concerns I may have had of looking underage. The only other help was from a pregnancy website that recommended the old ‘I’m on antibiotics’ trick.

But, the thing is, I’d quite like a drink. A. One. Singular. And afterwards, I’d like to have a nice cup of tea and go to bed. Ideally by 10pm. And then sleep solidly until 7am.

What a night that would be!

The Photo is from Ly Wylde's Photostream on Flickr

Post Partum Amnesia

So there I was surfing the internet, when I came across a blog written by a new mum about her new baby and how she deals with all the new challenges she faces. I thought it was really good, but more than that it just seemed so relevant to me. It was as if I could have written it. And that’s when I realized that I had. It was my blog.


After congratulating myself on such a great blog, I realized that my baby brain was getting the better of me. Forgetting I had a blog was nothing compared to my other recent episodes of post partum amnesia……regularly forgetting the day of the week, forgetting I had met someone within a couple of hours of seeing them, forgetting peoples’ names, forgetting to do the house work when Google Daddy was out at work so he had to do them when he got back (ok, so maybe I didn’t actually forget that....).

It all came to a head when I went to the supermarket to do the grocery shopping one evening. I wrote a list of everything we needed (talk about super-organised!), left Google Daddy in charge of Google Baby and off I went. I whisked around the supermarket with fierce efficiency and even remembered to take the ‘Bags for Life’. So far, so good.

An hour later, I was back at home, curled up on the sofa chatting to Google Daddy with a nice cuppa. Two hours later, I was in my PJs, getting ready for Google Baby’s night feed. Two and a half hours later I was tucked up in bed.

Three hours later I was wide awake sat bolt up right in my bed trying to persuade Google Daddy to go out and get the shopping out of the car, which was parked about half a mile away as there were no spaces outside the house. It seems during the 3 minute drive home from the supermarket, I completely forgot that I’d been shopping and so merrily walked away from the car leaving the groceries festering in the boot. I was distraught. Just think of that tub of Ben and Jerry’s melting …

It was time to take action. As Google Daddy reluctantly went out to unload the car, I checked in with Google for a solution to my baby brain.

The first few results weren’t overly helpful.

Wisegeek suggested a solution of getting plenty of sleep. I suspect Wisegeek doesn’t have a newborn to care for if he thinks that plenty of sleep is likely for any new mum. But he isn’t alone. Nearly every webpage Google referred me to recommended getting lots of sleep.

But there was worse news to follow. According to a study recently published in the Journal of Clinical and Experimental Neuropsychology, a woman's memory can be impaired for at least a year after giving birth.

A year??? That’s a lot of melted ice cream to clean out of the back of the car.

So, it looks like baby brain is here to stay. But it’s not all bad news. I remember Google Baby’s birth; the first night spent looking at each other, his trip home, his first bath, the cuddles, the happiness…. Who cares about groceries?




The picture is from ccw22's photostream on flickr.

Hometime!

HOORAY! We are being discharged!!

The Google Family is getting ready for its first trip into the big bad world – the journey home.

Google Daddy has arrived with the car seat. Google Baby is in his adorable Going Home Outfit. Google Mummy is sporting a bad hair do (no hairdryer), a great big flabby tummy, great big Momma Boobs and a great big smile. We’re ready to go.

So, what happens when we get home? What do we do with Google Baby?

I know I should Google but frankly, I’m far too knackered and want to spend the evening looking at my little boy. So, I’m cashing in one of my Wild Cards (see Rule Number 4 in The Rules!) and have arranged for Google Grannie to be in residence for the first week. Well, I have just had a baby after all……

Love & Euphoria

Remember that feeling of love and euphoria that I described in my last post? You know, the one that I thought should be bottled and given away, convinced that it would end all wars and lead to world peace….. Well, don’t believe a word of it!

The love and euphoria is, in fact, strictly limited to your new family only. It definitely does NOT extend to the ignorant slob of a woman in the bed opposite who spent the hours of darkness impersonating (in looks and sound) a warthog with bad sinuses. The snoring was the loudest I have ever, ever heard. Worse even than Google Daddy after a night out on the beers with his Scottish pal.

And if the bloody snoring wasn’t bad enough, Ignorant Slob also decided to leave her TV on all night – just at the really irritating level….not so loud it’s blaring but loud enough to irritate the hell out of you.

And just in case you think she’s any better during waking hours, she’s not. I have never heard anyone whinge and whine and moan and complain as much as, or as loudly as, Ignorant Slob.

Today, I have heard the same tedious, and frankly not very significant, complaint at least 25 times. She has told every single person that has passed her bed or caught her eye. She’s tried with me but got short shrift. I thought this would mean a brief respite for my ears from her rough South London tones. But no, she phoned her Mum and complained to her. Again.

I turned to my friend Google, in this my darkest hour, to find a solution. It referred me to some self-help stop snoring in five easy steps type page. It proffered the genius idea of a chin strap, the theory being that it holds the snorers mouth closed when asleep so they have to breathe through her nose, et voila! No snoring.

Now, for those clever readers who are one step ahead of the game, you’ll also realize that the chin strap would also be a great way to make Ignorant Slob shut up during the day as well. Ah, Google my friend, you never let me down. Now, if only I could find a Midwife willing to tie some bandage around Ignorant Slob’s head…

Photo taken from Sujathanfan's photostream on Flickr.

It's a Boy!

Google Baby has arrived and he’s a boy!

He’s got a mass of black hair and big blue eyes. He has the requisite 10 fingers and 10 toes, attached to lovely long limbs. He’s got the cutest nose.

We can’t stop looking at him. We can’t stop cuddling him. This feeling of love and euphoria should be bottled and given away. It really would answer the wishes of all American Beauty Pageant contestants; it would create world peace.

A friend of a friend said, of having a baby, you don’t realize there was such a gaping hole in your life until they arrive and fill it.

I couldn’t put it better myself.

Picture taken from BrooklynTweed's photostream on Flickr.

It's Time!!

Aaaaaaarrrrrggghh. It’s Time!!

OMG!

It’s happening.

It’s all going to happen today.

It’s scary.

It’s exciting.

It’s amazing.

It’s time to go to hospital.

I’ve got the bag. Google Daddy-to-be is ready and raring to go! Google Grannie-to-be is ready to wave us off.

Should I Google ‘Is this going to hurt?’

No, there’s no time, and I guess I already know the answer……..










Photo taken from Buteijn's Photostream on Flickr

High Maintenance Mums

I've been getting a bit of stick from Google Daddy-to-be and Google Grannie-to-be about insisting that either Google Daddy-to-be packs my hospital bag it or we buy one ready made. I'm feeling more than a little aggrieved at this and so turned to my friend Google to see if I really am being high maintenance.

Well, it appears not! I'm positively easy going compared to the High Maintenance Mums I've been reading about.

First up is our favourite person from the Bronx, Jennifer Lopez. Apparently, she insisted her maternity room be empty for the two weeks leading up to her admittance (perhaps germs from poor people have a life span of less than two weeks?) and the room was kitted out with two plasma TV screens and leather couches. Better still, she did it all in couture hospital gowns and a coordinating robe, all designed by http://www.dearjohnnies.com/

Second on my list it Victoria Beckham. It's rumoured that she insisted that the entire floor of the hospital where she had Cruz be closed off just for her. The WHOLE FLOOR! I'm facing a stint in a ward with 3 other new mums because a private room (NB - one room, not a WHOLE FLOOR) at £625 per night at my local NHS hospital has been deemed a tad on the excessive side by Google Daddy-to-be.

Third up, it's also rumoured that Tina Hobley of Casualty fame, phoned The Ivy from her room in the Portland Hotel shortly after giving birth to her daughter and ordered a take out of 2 of their lovely shepherd's pies. I have made enquiries at the Ivy and apparently it's unlikely that they'll deliver to a non actress in an NHS hospital. Damn and blast.


I bet the Ivy in LA deliver to the Birthing Centre to the Stars aka the Cedars Sinai hospital where countless famous people have received the 5 star treatment in their multi-room bed suites whilst popping out celebrity babies whilst simultaneously negotiating multi million dollar exclusive picture rights with America’s OK! Magazine.


Suddenly, my rider of a pillow in a white Egyptian cotton pillow case (of not less that a 800 thread count), cashmere socks, Evian facial spritz, avocados and oat cakes, an M&S nightie and dressing gown, flip flops (for when I have to use the shared bathroom) and a bottle of Detox spray (to wipe the loo seat before I sit on the throne) seems positively basic!

High Maintenance? Moi??

Picture taken from HalfCrazyGirl's Photosream on Flickr

What's In Your Bag?

Right – it’s time to get serious. The due date is looming so I’ve got to get organized and to pack the hospital bag. I’m guessing I need a nightdress, toiletries, a book and a camera.

My mum, aka Google-Grannie-To-Be, laughed at this list when I told her and said at best I’d need a trashy magazine with lots of pictures and minimal text as the chances of reading a book at any stage in the foreseeable future were slim to say the least. She also said that I might want to think about packing a few things for the baby.

She is such a know it all….

Anyway, those who know me know that I don’t do packing. It’s a chore too far. I’ll organize and book holidays, but I don’t do packing. Thankfully, the husband, aka Google-Daddy-To-Be, is a LEGEND at packing. I sit and point at things that I need to take away and, hey presto, 30 minutes after we arrive at our destination, all my clothes, shoes, toiletries, bags etc are unpacked and ready to use. It really is a skill that every girl should insist on in a husband.

So, I’m hoping he’s going to extend this 'packing for holiday' skill to 'packing for hospital', although this is not without risk given that neither of us have ever stayed in hospital before so we’re not really sure what we need.

Google to the rescue! This time in the shape of Little Stork who prepare and pack your hospital bag for you. They do four different bags: Essential, Original, Deluxe and Mother of All Bags. Guess which one appeals to me?

I’m loving the going home outfits for baby and mum – and there’s even stuff for the new Daddy. It is the celebrity hospital bag du jour and apparently loved/used by Gwen Stefani, Brooke Shields, Martina McBride, Marcia Cross, Rosa Blasi, Michelle Williams and Jaime Pressly. (Does it matter that I don’t know who all those people are?).

This is an American based company, but surely there is a market for one here in the UK. I think Google-Daddy-To-Be should consider a career change….

Picture taken from Rosemea's Photostream on Flickr