Oh boy - Yet more girls

Mum went along to an NCT meet up today of mums and babies, at the Orange Tree in Whetstone. I met baby Ruby, who was the youngest there. Mum didn't manage to get a picture though, so I'll post one as soon as I can. It's 'cos Dad said that he'd recharge the batteries on the camera, and then didn't. Honestly, parents.

Double figures...

Hey - gotta blog that at this morning's weighing I hit 10 lbs spot on! Mum and Boobie are having to put away all my "tiny baby" clothes and bring out bigger ones, 'cos I ain't exactly a tiny baby any more! In fact, the newborn ones are a bit tight, but Dad's still wrestling me into the old sleepsuits. I'm never too happy about that, so I let him know: waaaaaah.

Cambridge friends - part 2

Dad went back to work agin today but he says his back is a bit better. Mum still got annoyed with him though because he didn't tell her that Uncle ChrisM was coming round to visit. Dad said that he had actually, but that's not important. Mum says that Uncle ChrisM is a Very Handy Man who even grows his own vegetables. His large marrows have won prizes. She didn't say he makes his own milk though, so I don't see what the fuss is about.

Uncle ChrisM is going to be a doctor, so he was quite happy to hold me:

Cambridge friends - part 1

Quiet day today: Dad said that it was the Bank Holiday so that was why he didn't have to go to work. We had spent the night in Mum and Dad's flat in Croydon. This morning we went to visit Margaret, Mum and Dad's osteopath, and her assistant and receptionist Jenny. Auntie Margaret treated Dad's poorly back whilst Mum fed me, and then she treated Mum as well, whilst reminiscing about when her son was a baby. Her son is just a few months older than Dad but I'm sure Dad couldn't ever have been a baby so I don't understand that.

When we went back to Potters Bar, Dad got a call from Auntie Clare and Uncle Mat, who had gone to some sort of board game convention there. Since they were in the area, they came over:



Auntie Clare seemed quite taken with me, and Uncle Mat looked a little worried by this. I don't know why though - everyone likes me. It's because I'm so cute.

Probably... the cutest baby in the world

Another in the series of great British commercials: this post sponsored by Carlsberg Lager.

My secret hobby

You know, I have the standard baby pleasures in life: feeding, feeding, possetting because I guzzled too much, pooing and feeding again.

Top of my grievances list are having my nappy changed, being dressed, being undressed; and people sitting down when they hold me. Oh yeah - and sleep is for girls.

But I thought I'd share with you my latest hobby - staring at blank walls. Don't get me wrong, windows and doors are pretty good, but there's something profound in the uniformity of an untouched canvas that is delightfully postmodern. I can gaze, dumbstruck, for several minutes.

I've collected quite a few favourite walls in the last couple of weeks. Here I am in action, in awe of one of my latest discoveries:

And this was what struck me: a superb fence:

And my other titillation this week: guttering! Wow!

Knock knock... Is anyone there?

Hey, I wonder whether this camera's on... Let me just check...


Woah! Extreeeeme close-up! I guess it is, then. Cool pic though. Must be the view that Mum has when she checks for bogies.

International Man of Mystery, the Sequel - different times, different guises

To continue the Friday Special Costume series, here are another two pics for your enjoyment.

First up, Julius Caesar. Et tu, Brute?


Then perhaps Robert Redford, in Out of Africa? Definitely a jungle explorer: maybe like Sir Ranulph Fiennes.

Third date with Dana!

I was excited today 'cos Mum drove me over to see Dana. The idea was that Mum could have a chat and a lunch with Dana's mum Galit.

Dana definitely looked bigger and brighter, but guess what - I've overtaken her in weight! Mum says it's 'cos I feed at double the rate of most babies. I'll post a pic here just as soon as Dana or her Mum or Dad get a spare minute to e-mail it over.

Mum, Dana's mum, Dana and I went to Carluccio's restaurant for lunch, eventually. It took ages to get out of Dana's house because she and I decided we needed feeding at completely different times. Then Mum decided that I needed a nappy change, as I had been lying down near Dana and making all sorts of excretory noises. Dana elbowed me hard though, and Mum told me that I really shouldn't do that near girls. Oh well, you live and learn, huh.

Daaaaaaad!!!

Mum and Dad tried to have a leisurely lie-in this morning, as Dad had the day off. That meant Mum getting up at 9:30 am ish, after attempting to put me down at 6:00, 6:45, 7:45, 8:30, 8:50... you get the idea.

Consequently, we went to the Baby Clinic as it was closing, and Dad saw the mothering mayhem that he had missed last week because we had been mega-early: all the best that the unwashed, breeding masses of Potters Bar had to offer. Anyway, I weighed 9 lbs 5 oz (4.22 kg) which is what Mum had guessed.

Just as Dad was strapping me back into my car seat, he somehow did his back in and he said it really hurt. He said that the muscle had seized up or something. So he couldn't pick me up or do anything except have a warm bath and lie down in bed.

Mind you, in the afternoon Mum dragged Dad and me out shopping anyway. We went to the Galleria at Hatfield, which neither Mum nor I had been to. Shopping's boring, so I fell asleep - although I woke up every time they tried to lie me down in the pram, of course, only to fall asleep again once they picked me up!

Gotta blog this

Oooh, just a quick one before I go to up to sleep for the night (not). I managed to splatter Dad's dressing gown with projectile liquid poo right up to his shoulder, as he was kneeling over me during the nappy change just now. Then as he was telling me that it was all a bit gross, I smiled at him. Cool.

Mum's theory on my hair

Hey fans - I think the hair on my forehead is growing back - I don't think I'll be permanently bald after all!


Mum's theory, derived empirically from detailed scientific observation, is that my head has grown bigger by my face moving downwards, the scalp with my hair moving backwards and a new forehead growing. Great, she thought I had no frontal lobe before and now I am a spamhead; you can't win! Anyway, now the forehead's grown out the hair is gradually catching up.

Laxative relative

Auntie Jenny and Uncle Tim came round this afternoon and stayed for dinner. Auntie Jenny was a bit disappointed that her laxative effect on me was only mild today. Everyone still thinks that the NHS should prescribe small constipated children a cuddling session with her.

Like my new T-shirt?

Hah hah! Lie-ins are for wimps! I make Mum get up at 1 am, 4 am and 7 am, on a good day.

Actually, Mum's noticed that I'm sleeping for slightly longer stretches through the night now. I might last 3 hours during the night and have been known to do the best part of 4 hours in between feeds. However during the day I keep Mum going, feeding every 1½ to 2 hours on average, and not really falling asleep in between. Being wide awake is so much more fun!

How I programme the DVD player

Mum has set up my playmat right in front of the TV. I've been practising crawling actions (mainly kicking my legs back alternately) as well as pushing up and holding my head. It's a bit wobbly at the moment but definitely getting better.


On the plus side, from here I can also fiddle with Boobie and Zaida's DVD/VCR player when people aren't looking. Dad, I understand DVDs, but what is a video? And what does obsolete mean? Wow, you're ancient.

Babies galore!

There was another NCT meet-up today. Mum and Dad took me along to Mill Hill to see quite a lot of babies. So I obliged by falling asleep and taking no notice of any of them. Dad tried not to feel too awkward being the only man there whilst Mum compared labour experience stories with the other mummies. Horror stories of jaundice treatments too - I wasn't the only one who got a sun-bed tan early on in life.

We got to meet Dexter (yay, another boy!), who has a great range of facial expressions. No photos of him, I'm afraid, yet. On the plus side we do now have a picture of Chloe:

and Jasmine, whom I hadn't met before:

I get a bit tongue-tied around the girls - don't manage to say anything suave. I thought of some witty one-liners after the meet-up but the only thing that came out of my mouth at the time was "waaaahh". And posset of course.

Practically perfect

Dad took the day off and the whole family went to the cranial osteopath today to have my head looked at. I told them that I don't need my head looking at and was slightly offended that they thought I did - but apparently they meant it literally. Boobie said that cranial osteopathy helps sort out wind and all sorts of problems for babies who've had a traumatic birth. So I got taken to see Great Uncle Stephen (who went to school with Boobie). He felt all around my head and then stuck his finger in my mouth and poked around in there too. I did my best but I just couldn't get the milk to come out of his finger. It must have been defective.

There I was looking forward to having a nice head massage and he told Mum that my head shape was practically perfect and I didn't need anything done to me. How flattering - I've made another friend! However I still wouldn't say no to a head massage.

I lost my battle of wills though. In the waiting room afterwards when Mum was being treated I caved in and gave Daddy a big grin.

Weighting game

Another week gone, another measurement taken. I've hit 4kg, which is about 8lb 13oz. I've got this weight thing figured out now - all I need to do is feed continuously and I gain loads of weight! How simple!

Waiting game

Still haven't smiled at Dad yet. When he came home from work today, he was egging me to smile but I just stared at him.

How I blog

I've been asked a few times now how I manage to write my blogs. Here's a pic of Zaida helping me this morning:

A thoroughly nicer hospital

We spent the night at Mum and Dad's flat in Croydon. This morning Dad left early to go to work. Mum spent the morning faffing around - actually, I'm not sure what she did, because I was asleep. In the afternoon, though, Mum and I drove in to her old work place, Springfield Hospital in Tooting (part of South West London and St George's Mental Health NHS Trust, notable for its "just-rolls-off-the tongue" catchy name). I met some of Mum's colleagues and got plenty of attention. Mum caught up with all the goss from the regeneration project she was working on.

It was a tiring day. When we got back to Potters Bar I fell asleep on Boobie.


I still haven't smiled at Dad though.

Picnic in Richmond Park

Mum, Dad and I left at lunchtime today to go to Richmond Park to meet up with friends from dancing. We drove to Barnes first to meet Auntie-Amanda-the-10-Star-Bunnies-Now!-Fitness-Trainer and her mum, but Amanda had gone ahead. It took a while to find the gang as the only directions we got were "in the field opposite the car park near a group of deer and people flying kites". Not very specific in a park nearly 2500 acres in size.

I got cooed over by all the aunties (Aunties Amanda, Claire, Kitty, Hazel, Grace and Justine), but the uncles were being too macho and pretended that they were too scared of dropping me to have a hold. Just as well, I guess, as Mum had to change my nappy twice in the back of the car. Dad played rounders with the gang whilst I had some more milk.

First smiles

Auntie Roz, my parents' antenatal teacher, had promised them that the first six weeks with a new baby were the most draining, which is why babies are programmed to smile at six weeks: it's so that after forty odd days of broken sleep, parents are rewarded with a glimmer of recognition. Then they go all mushy and think that it's worth it after all.

So Dad said yesterday, "You're going to be exactly six weeks old at 4:02 am tomorrow morning, so you'd better have a good smile."

Actually, I smiled a couple of times at Mum yesterday, but she thought they were random. Well, I was just practising.

I smiled a bit at Boobie this morning, but it was 'cos I was smirking that I'd done another smelly poo. Ooooh, they feel so good.

Mr Know-It-All

Oooh: exciting, busy day today. Mum and Dad had their first dancing lesson since I was born. In fact, Dad said it was actually since Mum had started feeling really sick when I was in her tummy. I don't remember that though, but Mum said that I danced the British Closed Amateur Ballroom Dancing Championships when I was about eight cells big. Well, whaddya know.

Whilst Mum and Dad were dancing waltz and foxtrot, Boobie and Zaida looked after me and we watched on. I kept trying to tell Dad he was too backweighted and he wasn't pushing through the standing leg which was what was letting his swing action down. But demonstrating by lobbing my head around didn't seem to get the message across.

By the way, I can hold my head for a good half a minute now on my own! It's useful for nutting these dim people when they don't get what I'm trying to say.

Afterwards, we all went shopping in Watford. Mum and Boobie picked out some new outfits for me as I've outgrown all my "tiny baby" ones. They also bought a plastic support from Mothercare, which they said they'd use to give me a B-A-T-H. Duurrr: as if I can't spell.

Nice beans.

Mmmmmmm. Nescafé. That richer, smoother flavour. Coffee at its best.


(Sorry, that seems like a bit of gratuitous advertising, but it's a tribute to Gareth Hunt and the nostalgia of great eighties' TV adverts. Actually, I just couldn't waste the photo.)

Milkaholics' Anonymous

Hi. My name's Joel Sheridan, and it's been 15 minutes since my last feed. My Mum has noticed that I can go from my normal sleepy cute self to Inconsolable Levels of Starvation in 10 seconds. Dad has dubbed it "The Milk Shakes" and he says I start making junkie faces, licking my lips in anticipation and bobbing my overly-heavy head on anything that resembles an arm or a chest, like a fish on coral.

The stress of the addiction is really getting to me. Here I am with my support group (Great Auntie Karen is supporting my head...cha boom!)

Fascinated

Great-Uncle-Howard-Who's-Plastered, Great Auntie Karen and Adoring-Second-Cousin-Maddy came to visit this afternoon. They've been away on holiday in the Lake District so they really noticed that I now fill my skin - hooray! And they brought some lovely pressies for me including a Spot the Dog Bath Book (not that I got the hint).

I thought I'd impress Great Auntie Karen by showing her that I can now uncurl myself with straight legs.



Actually, she was more interested than I was. It was much more exciting when I startled myself by making a loud noise when I filled my nappy.

New wheels

Boobie & Zaida bought me a pram, and it's really cool! Zaida put it together & we used it to go to the health clinic. But he'd put the pram bit on back-to-front so I was facing away from Mum on the way there. I showed him how to do it properly for the way back and emphasised the importance of it by screaming all the way home. I think I made my point.

And the winner is...

...Dad of course! Actually, I don't know what happened. I'd had it all calculated so that I'd match his guess on the dot and I ended up 0.4oz out, at 8lb 1.6oz. How could I be so inaccurate? Clearly I've got a lot to learn before I can officially be called Genius-Like-His-Daddy.

Still, a second week of gaining twice the weight I'm supposed to (on average) can't be bad. Better go and, ahem, release some excess weight now though (if you don't know what I mean, see yesterday's post).

Sweepstake

Auntie Jenny came to see me today and Dad had the day off work so I got lots of attention. Rightly so, of course - because I'm worth it. As usual Auntie Jenny worked her magic on me and so Dad a fun job changing my smelly nappy.

Tomorrow's the next time I get weighed so everyone's made bets on how heavy I'll be. Mum said 7lb 13oz - quite conservative I think - whereas Dad guessed 8lb 2oz and Jenny reckoned a whopping 8lb 5oz. Thanks for the confidence vote but I don't know if I can reach that quite yet!

Better stop blogging and feed constantly until tomorrow morning. I wonder if I can increase the result if I hold off from pooing until after I've been weighed... Or is that being too anally retentive about it?

Skinhead

28 degrees in the shade today - sweltering, so we stayed at home.

Mum's been concerned about my new "skinhead" look. She had wanted me to turn out all delicate yet artistic: a classical pianist like my namesake Evgeny Kissin, perhaps. Instead, she's increasingly resigned to accept that I like large breasts and I have no qualms about releasing loud, embarrassingly wet flatulence in polite company.

So I've had fun today winding Mum up with my "Chav Builder" impression. Alwight, Darlin'?



Hold on, I can't blog right now, I'm on the mobile. It's the rellies in Spain.

Dad's birthday and NCT reunion

It was Dad's birthday today so the first thing Mum got him to do when he woke up was to change my nappy.

Today was also the big reunion day for the NCT antenatal class. We went to Al Fresco's Italian Restaurant in Whetstone. When we got there all the other babies were conked out because of the heat. The mums and dads had a great time though comparing notes.

Dana was there with her parents. She's so refined. Here she is with her classical opera rendition of Puccini's O Mio Babbino Caro.



Mum said I was rude because I slept through all of it. Huh! So did the other babies!

Me:

Madeline:

Evie:

Gracie:

...and this is Rafi (short for Rafael). He's going to be my mate:

Isla was awake though, and smiling a bit too!

So overall, I met one new boy and six girls (though I've already met Dana twice). Mum and Dad didn't manage to get a close-up of Chloe, so I'll keep pestering them. The generic Miserable Face is always useful for that.

International Man of Mystery

'Allo, 'Allo, alors!

We were making Shabbat this evening and Boobie found me a very small kippah. It was still too big. Mum thought it looked like a beret. Ah, quel chic suis-je! I zink I look like an oignonononon sellehrr from Normandie, or maybe a memberrr of ze Frensh Résistahnce. Mais oui.

Help - I think I'm going bald

Boobie hasn't liked to say, but my receding hairline's receding. Mum is panicking because she's vain on my behalf and she's sure I have congenital hair loss and I'll never have hair again ever.