Tell Babydaddy

Michelle and Beth are both still doing very well. Beth is having a little trouble putting on weight but we’ve tweaked the feeding regime and that should resolve itself in a day or two. M is very pleased that breastfeeding a looking like a goer as she felt she had missed out on something by not going through a ‘natural’ childbirth. B is a good little sucker and we’re gradually getting the hang of efficient routines for night feeds and so on.

Fatherhood is such a strange mix of emotions that it’s very hard to describe. I didn’t get an immediate, overwhelming thunderbolt of emotion when Beth was born but since then, and especially since she came home from hospital, my love for her has really taken over and is deepening all the time.

It’s difficult to reconcile my pre-Beth, rationalist view of babies with my parent’s-eye perspective, but I figured that the dichotomy can be resolved by the use of the post-Beth caveats parenthesised below:

1) All newborns look the same (except for Beth who is dazzling beautiful)

2) All they do is feed, fart and excrete (except for Beth, who does lots of really cute and individual stuff)

3) All babies are stupid (except for Beth who is a little sage)

Meanwhile M and I have been keeping each other sane by looking after each other and doing our usual stuff while B is asleep: watching DVDs etc. We haven’t gone out much because all the locals are aghast at the cold snap we’ve been having, down to (gasp!) 11 celsius some days. This is a nation of lightweights, I tell you.

Less than a day

About 20 hours to go until parenthood! Bags are packed, everything is planned, all set. Timetable is breakfast at 6.30, into hospital at 11.30, epidural at 1.30, baby arrives at around 2.30, flap around like an idiot 2.30 onwards.

In other news: I have undergone a Damascene conversion and now realise that 20-20 is the purest and most beautiful form of cricket, and the most accurate gauge of world standings.

Goodnight.

Would you excuse me? I cut my foot before and my shoe is filling up with blood.

So that was our last real Big Weekend for a wee while. Friday night we went to the Aussie production of The Producers, which was marvellous. Musicals are rarely my favourite genre but this one is as good as you’ve heard: funny, sexy, and with decent songs.

Saturday was the wedding of our mates Scott and Cherisse (Dani’s sister, for those that have met Dani). All the classic wedding elements were in place: weepy bridesmaids, me not knowing how the hymns go, drunk relloes, speeches about stuff I didn’t really get, and a truly, truly hideous choice of music from the DJ including the Grease Megamix and several tracks from Mr J. Bunny. All good fun and everybody went home happy.

On Sunday we had our version of a baby shower, which was a bit like a regular one only with more blokes, beer and barbecuing. There were about 30 people all in, which made for lots of fun. We also got lots of lovely stuff for the bub, but M blew the secret of my secret love for Bambi in front of everyone, which tarnished my carefully developed macho image.

On the iPod: Kraftwerk – Trans Europe Express
On the bedside table: Balzac – The Black Sheep
On the telly: Romy and Michelle’s High School Reunion

210 hours and counting....

Countdown to C-Day

OK, here’s the big date for the bub…drumroll…Thursday June 16th (cue fanfare).

We went to the hospital yesterday and they booked us in for the c-section. It’s a few days before the official due date, so we’re hoping that labour doesn’t kick in early and mean an emergency op. The staff at Hornsby Hospital have all been very professional and likeable, so we’re feeling as relaxed as we could expect about the prospect. M will probably have to stay in hospital for 3 or 4 days post-op, but I’ll then have 2 weeks of leave in which to help her and do my stint with the newborn.

336 hours to go. Woohoo!

Should I venture in the slipstream

I was having a ponder on the best first lines of albums the other day as I was driving home, and that very evening we watched the excellent High Fidelity which involves men making Top 5 lists rather than engaging emotionally. Cunningly putting the 2 together, then, here is my provisional Top 5 First Lines on an Album:

1) “All I want in life’s a little bit of love to take the pain away” – Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating In Space - Spiritualized

2) “Son, now I’m 30/I only went with your mother cos she’s dirty” – Pills Thrills N Bellyaches, The Happy Mondays

3) “Belligerent ghouls run Manchester schools” – Meat is Murder, The Smiths

4) “I don’t need to sell my soul, he’s already in me” – The Stone Roses, The Stone Roses

5) “Screen door slams, Mary’s dress sways/Like a vision she dances across the porch as the radio plays” – Born To Run, Bruce Springsteen

Any better suggestions?