Bump watch - 36 weeks

Happy after a scan showed the baby is head down and ready to rock :D

Bump watch - 24 weeks

 On the ferry on the way to Ireland for our Summer Holiday.

 Jacob kissing the baby.  Swoon.  Excuse my stupid face.

Totally bumpalicious on the only sunny day of our holiday.

Sunny Days

(Yes, I'm backdating this post.  I forgot to write it when it was sunny and now Summer is apparently over again, so I'm trying to recreate that summery feeling without being all depressed about the current constant drizzle.  As you can see, I'm failing.)

Summer came in with a bang this week, and we capitalised on it with 4 glorious days spent trying not to burn  and trying to encourage Jacob that water is not the work of the devil, and is actually quite fun to play in (on the plus side, we found a suncream that Jacob is not allergic too!  Nivea Kids, factor 30, for those keeping track).

On Thursday, we went with my dear friend Rhian and her daughter Poppy to a park close to her home.  And blimey, do they keep this one secret.  From the road, it just looks like a nice bit of grass and an old house.  Once you get in, tucked away out of sight of the road there are shady walks, a duckpond, tennis courts and a fantastic playground complete with sandpit (I'm always jealous of there being sandpits in parks in America, I've never come across one here before).

When we got home, I spent bloody ages blowing up a paddling pool (I couldn't get the pump to work), only to find a small rip in the base.  So I found another paddling pool, spent bloody ages blowing that one up, then just as I finished I found the repair kit for the first one.  Still, Jacob had a whale of a time filling it, and now we have a spare ready blown up in the garage, in case of a paddling emergency.

(There are no more photos of Jacob actually playing in the paddling pool, because as Jamie delightfully put it, Jacob put the 'poo' into 'paddling pool')

 On Friday, we went with my friend Hannah and 18-month-old Finn to the beach.  Jacob entertained us in the car by translating Finn's squeaks and screeches all the way: "Finn says he saw a little bird!"/"Finn says he loves the beach", which was just too lovely for words.  As we approached the beach, we could see that the sea was swathed in mist, and the temperature was about 5 degrees lower than on the top of Gower.  A welcome relief, although it didn't last long and we had to retire not long after lunch, before the littlies spontaneously combusted (not me though, I swam in the sea.  Yes I did.  And came face-to-face with a fucking huge fish.  Never again).

See little Jacob's front tooth?  He knocked that bit out at nursery.  They neglected to tell me.  I was not impressed. 

Jacob and I, perfecting our ANTM poses. 

On Saturday, we went to the beach (a different one) with Jamie.  We became proper grown-ups by buying a windbreak and throwing passive-aggressive dirty looks at the group of teenagers who set up camp 6 inches away from us and began swearing and playing their iPods through tinpot speakers.  Have they never heard of headphones?

We spent hours climbing over these rocks, looking for crabs in the rockpools.  We found lots.  I discovered that the dye on the bottom of my flipflops has a tendency to leach into the skin when they become wet, but once transferred, it sets up camp and refuses to move.  Yes, I now look like I never wash my feet.

We spent Sunday at home, playing in the garden and clearing up the deck to make it a nice play area for Jacob.  I took before photos but forgot the after ones, so you'll have to wait until another day for those.

It was a freaking awesome four days, dirty-feet and pooey-paddling pools aside ;)

Why you should always check tide tables

Some friends Jamie went to school with spent the last 2 weeks in Wales on holiday, finishing up with 5 days camping nearby at the Three Cliffs Bay caravan park on Gower. We went out to see them on Saturday - the weather forecast had threatened thundery showers but it was glorious and sunny, albeit ridiculously windy.

Three Cliffs Bay is a weird mini-estuary type beach, with a tidal river winding out around the beach and pouring into the sea, cutting the beach off from the cliff-path. There are large stepping stones to take you out onto the beach, but once across you're then foiled by the river doubling back in front of you to cut the beach in half again, meaning that you have to wade if you want to get onto the beach proper.

Having negotiated our way across the stones, we decided not to bother getting out onto the beach itself, and just settled down on a sand spit so J-cub could run around a bit and dabble his toes in the icy cold river-water.

And we got so distracted by rescuing various toys that he kept throwing into the water, that we totally didn't notice the beach (above) disappearing (below)...

Until the water was suddenly lapping around our toes and we beat a hasty (and slightly hysterical) retreat back beyond the tide line. It was at this point that we realised that not only had the beach disappeared - so had the stepping stones. And it was fast approaching half past 6, we had no food for J-cub's tea, and Rowan and Mark had dinner reservations at a fancy restaurant. While J-cub happily surveyed our consternation from on high...

...our friend Mark went to investigate how deep the stones were. At just over ankle-deep, and with the tide still coming in, we decided to risk it. J-cub clung to me for all he was worth and Mark waded across the river alongside me to catch us if we fell. But we didn't. We reached the other side safely and I berated myself for not checking the tide times before we came out. Because I always do. I was brought up to respect the sea, and I forgot, and it laughed in my face.

Still, I'll remember next time. The above picture shows me lying down to calm my beating heart, with J-cub berating me to "Det UP, Mummy!" He then spent the rest of our time there throwing rocks and sticks into the river, in an attempt to copy Mark who was expertly skimming stones.

Then he crouched for ages at the edge of the water, dipping dry stones into the water to watch them change colour.

By the time we left, the tide was on its way out again, and the stepping stones were almost visible. We live and learn.

First beach trip this year

The weather this week has just been amazing for this time of year. On Friday I met a lovely friend on the beach for chats and fun - and it was HOT. I'd dug open J-cub's summer clothes drawer, and he wore shorts for the first time this year (which soon came off, when he fell on his bum in the sea), and my cardi didn't even get anywhere near coming out of my bag.

Beach trips last year involved lots of supervising a very wobbly toddler - stopping him from eating sand, picking him up when he got too tired, and generally being very over-protective. It's all change this year - I sat with the lovely Hannah and her gorgeous 4-month-old Finn while J-cub ran to the sea and back to paddle, collected shells in his bucket, shouted at seagulls and generally had a fab time.

The tide was on its way out and he loved standing ankle deep in the sea, while the retreating waves sucked the sand away until his feet disappeared, and plunging his splayed fingers into the wet sand, then pulling them out to see his handprints instantly disappear.

The sea was bitterly cold, but he had no qualms about it at all, happily standing knee deep and shrieking with laughter as the tiny waves crashed over his bum, until he lost his footing and went completely under.

After I'd hoiked him out, stripped him off and wrapped him in a towel, we sat and cuddled til he was warm and dry, and I dressed him in the spare clothes all sensible mummies take with them everywhere. It hadn't crossed my mind to pack any for myself, and having had to plunge into the sea to get him, then carry his soaking-wet body back to our bags, then sit cuddling him til he warmed up; I was completely soaked through to my pants.

And of course I couldn't just go straight home, I had to go into the Civic Centre first to get some replacement garden recycling bags (which some chancer pinched when we last put them out for collection) in all my dripping glory.

I'll know for next time ;)

Day 16 - Polzeath

(Wednesday August 4th)

Another blast to the past today, we spent the day at Polzeath beach in North Cornwall. We had all our holidays here when I was little, every summer for as long as I can remember (and probably a long time before I can remember) we spent a week staying in holiday flats or cottages here, and drove down for day trips most weekends. It's the best beach, it's the beach that all beaches make me think of, and it's more like going home there than anywhere else (my parents don't live in the same house I grew up in).

I hadn't been for about 4 years, and I've been fantasising about taking J-cub there since he was born. We were a little unsure about going, as the weather forecast was doubtful, and we woke to pouring rain. In fact, we drove through pouring rain, right into Cornwall where it suddenly started to lighten up. When we got there, it was almost sunny, but we were practically knocked over by a freezing wind when we got out of the car. We swapped our nice beach attire for the warmest emergency jumpers we had in the car, our waterproof coats, and winter hats all round (unfortunately, we only had a sunhat for J-cub, which kept blowing off. I managed to unearth a warmish hat in the depths of our swimming bag, but it was newborn size and we could barely squeeze it on. And not one of the shops there sold warm children's hats. You'd think it was supposed to be Summer.

Just after the above photo was taken, I spied another babywearing mama carrying a tiny baby in a stretchy wrap, and her partner had their older child in a framed rucksack. She spied me at the same time and we exchanged smiles and pointed each other out to our respective husbands. I was too shy to go and say hello though, although I did make the point later on of searching to see if she'd seen me in the "I saw a real babywearer!" thread on naturalmamas. Sadly no mention of me, but then I was again too shy to make a post of my own.

We didn't let the bitter wind stop our beachy fun, and happily dove head-first into the sand for some sandcastle building...

... some climbing in and out of a large hole.

After we'd finished with the sand, we trugged round the shops, ate a chippy lunch out of the wind in a cafe, and wandered back up to the car when J-cub got tired out. Jamie popped him in the buggy and pushed him round til he fell asleep while I lay the front passenger seat back in the car, put my feet on the dashboard and had a blissful hour's sleep. I felt like a proper Dad.

When I woke up, it was to the strange feeling of being warm. Very warm. I got out the car to find J-cub had just woken up and the sun had firmly got his hat on. Rather than our original plan of going home mid-afternoon, we decided to stay and make the most of the day, and go down to the sea (Polzeath beach is huge, and it was high tide when we got there. By mid-afternoon, it was low tide, and it's like a different beach. There are massive exposed rockpools, and the beach seems unending).

After a quick stop in Spar to stock up on picnic supplies, we went down to the sea and J-cub discovered the thrill of sun-warmed rock- and tide-pools. We saw lots of fish and crabs...

...and chased a (seagull)duck half-way across the beach (that tiny blue blur you can see? That's him).

We got back to the car at 6pm, and my little sausage was so worn out that he just lay on the Mei Tai where I'd lowered him to the ground. We had a cobbled together picnic and set off home after 7pm. It was a gorgeous day.

Hey, it's the sun, and it makes me shine...

There was an eagerly-anticipated NCT Nearly New sale yesterday - I love going to these sales and fighting through the masses to stock up with bigger clothes and toy bargains. However, we made the mistake of starting off the day with a 'quick' trip to the beach. It's been so hot this week that we've been careful to keep J-cub out of the sun between 11am and 3pm, which pretty much scuppers any of our usual "let's go to the beach today" ideas.

A little forward planning yesterday saw us leave the house by 9.30, and we were at the beach by 10. The sale ran from 10.30am-1.30pm, so we figured an hour or so at the beach would get us there in plenty of time.

But the beach was just TOO lovely. It was a little overcast, so the sun wasn't too strong, and with liberal half-hourly applications of Factor 50 sunscreen, and J-cub's UV sunsuit, and our UV tent, we figured we could stretch our stay out a little.

J-cub's Auntie Rachel and I took him for a toddle down to the sea, while Jamie languished in the tent with Ali Smith and a bad back. As we walked, J-cub repeatedly plumped down on his little bum to investigate tide pools, crabs, stones, shells and general detritus. Whilst he loved letting grains of dry sand run between his fingers, he was even more excited by smacking the wet sand and trying to pick up handfuls of it.

He emphatically did not like walking on the hot dry sand, but almost got up to a run on the hard wet sand, shouting gleefully as he spied something else of interest.

He had his second dip in the sea - the first was inflicted on him at 6 months but yesterday he walked right into the sea of his own accord, laughed at the waves, wasn't at all bothered by the cold and even washed the sand off his hands before coming out.

We'd hastily packed some snacks before we left, which turned into a makeshift lunch when we realised it was midday. J-cub is currently crazy about Welsh cakes, and he happily crumbled them all over the tent, totally ignoring the more healthy options on offer.

He sensibly stayed out of the sun while his sun-suit and nappy wrap dried, happy to lie in the tent and look at the beautiful view. Not long after, he started rubbing his eyes and yawning, so we called it a day and packed up.

We got back to the car park at 12.50pm, and gave up any hope of going to the sale. Being drenched in sweat and covered in sticky-sand-and-sunscreen had nothing to do with our decision, honest.

J-cub fell asleep as soon as we got in the car, slept for the 30-minute drive home, was transferred to the cot still asleep, and slept for a further 3 hours! All that healthy sea air and toddling is very tiring.

Living near the beach makes me so happy :D

Why eating sand is perhaps not a good idea...

... or 'Things you never imagined you'd have to do as a Mother'.

Since our delightful trip to the beach on Saturday, J-cub's tummy has been getting firmer, and rounder, and bigger, and harder, and nothing has passed out the other end to ease the situation. This is not that unusual - as a baby he would only go once every 5 or 6 days (to the jealousy of all my mum friends whose breastfed babies went 7 or 8 times a day) and since he's been on solids he's regularly gone 2 or 3 days between 'movements' (ahhh so delicate, let's see how long that lasts in this post).

Last night, we had sporadic bouts of screaming between 9pm and midnight, and Jamie reported that he was drawing his knees up to his chest. In the absence of any other bright ideas, we gave him an extra bottle and he happily went to sleep for the rest of the night.

We've had a pretty normal morning today, playing, bouncing, singing, reading, napping, eating a good breakfast and lunch and drinking his mid-morning bottle happily.

Until about an hour ago, when J-cub, who was happily cruising around the furniture, suddenly started SCREAMING. I don't mean having a little bit of a whinge; I mean his full on, red-faced, tears streaming down his cheeks, breath-drawn-in-but-can't-get-it-out-again-cos-it's-so-SO-bad, end of the world scream. I rushed to his side, thinking he'd hurt himself. There was nothing in his immediate vicinity that he could have hurt himself on, and he climbed onto my knee, gripping my shoulders and standing upright, continuing to scream and silently begging me for help. And I realised that between his screams, he was doing his poo-face, and he was straining. Straining more than he'd ever strained in his life. My baby was giving birth.

I held him while stood on my knees, shifting his weight rapidly from foot to foot, pushing his back against my hand as I rubbed circles on his back, coaching him through each push and desperately trying to think what I could do. This went on for a whole episode of Big Barn Farm, which I believe is about 15 minutes long. I was getting desperate (and deafened from the screaming), he was going to explode if I didn't do anything soon.

Remembering how, when he was little, bicycling his legs would help with a bad bout of wind, I lay him down on the change mat and circled those little legs for all they were worth. His little face looked up at me, scared and hurt and desperate, begging me to make it stop.

I took his nappy off to see what progress was being made, and found a teeny-tiny solid ball of poo rolling around, and the rest of it evidently stuck half in, half out (which is what happened when J-cub was born, his head crowned and he just stopped. I had a tiny moment of glee, thinking "Ha! Now you know what it feels like!" before remembering who I was talking to). My brain jumped into childbirth-mode, and I thought "Right, let's get you in the bath, and you can have a waterbirth. That's got to help, right?"

Dashing across the room to get a nappy to wrap him up in to carry him upstairs, I heard the most unholy scream and turned round to see my darling baby boy had given birth to the most monstrous shit I'd ever seen. Ahhhh bless.

On closer inspection (honestly, non-mums, you do it, and you get used to doing it, and in time you come to enjoy it), there was an awful lot of small, packed, grainy balls of something unidentifiable in there. I had been racking my brains to remember what we'd given him that was round, when I suddenly remembered the beach, and this rather too frequent hand-to-mouth movement:

Which resulted in this face:

Which I think solves our mystery. He's now trotting around, as happy as a clam (a clam who hasn't been eating sand), and his stomach is about half the size it was before.

Thank you for listening.

Sun ... take some time, get away

We had the most glorious day today. It was J-cub's first proper experience of the beach (as previously he's been too tiny to properly appreciate it). He LOVED it. I think this photo says it all, although I took about a thousand more!