The World Cup Is Fucking Shit

But here is some nice music

What Is This Greasy Potato All About?

Took the baby to the library for bounce and rhyme this morning. I was the only man there. That meant that I got a whole verse of 'The Hello Song' to myself. I'm not sure I can handle any more of that.

When we got home we ate an avocado. We ate it like this; I would have a bite then the baby would open her mouth and I would put a little bit in. She would then pull a face as if it was the worst thing she had ever tasted. Then I would have another bite and she would open her mouth eagerly for her bit and then pull a face, just as if it was the worst thing she had ever tasted. Then I would take my bite... and so on. We did that until the avocado was finished.

She is asleep now so that I can watch the football.

As Promised...

I promised you recipes, but I will have to work fast because the baby’s afternoon nap should really be my dish-washing window.


Here is a wee curry-

Half an onion
A stick of celery
A small garlic clove
A red pepper
A sweet potato
A tin of tomatoes
Half a cup of lentils
Half a teaspoon of Thai green curry paste (careful now)
A wee bit of coconut block

1. Cut all the veg into tiny bits.
2. Put it all in a pan with a teeny tiny bit of oil and cook it until it is softened.
3. Put everything else in.
4. Cook, cook ,cook.
5. Serve with rice and whiz it in a blender if it’s too lumpy.

The baby loves this stuff. These quantities will make up three or four little pots, which means three or four dinners. Hooray!

D Day

Today Lynne went back to work. No going back part-time, no half measures, no fucking about, she is nine to five from here on in. Me and the baby watched the football.

That's not entirely true. I was working this morning so my mum came round to babysit. The nursery has let us down: their building work is going on for another six weeks so we are looking elsewhere. We might have a place for the baby in a nursery round the corner from the beginning of July, but we haven't been to see it yet.

In the meantime, my mother has stepped into the breach. My folks live 45 minutes in the car away and they do like to see the kid, but I feel bad about getting them to babysit while I go to work. I have volunteered to work every Saturday instead of doing the Wednesday shift to make it easier, but this isn't ideal either bcause that means that I will have to use my holidays to get a weekend off. We have been here before.

The baby and my mum have made friends now. I don't know what the baby had against her, I think maybe she had sussed out that when my folks turn up Lynne and I tend to disappear and leave her with them. Or maybe it had to do with stupid noises. I mak a lot of stupid noises, so does Lynne, but my mum is a bit uptight for that carry on, and maybe the baby found being clutched at in steely silence a bit alarming.

Anyway, my first proper day of being a true hausfrau was fine. I got back about lunchtime, we ate, we read books, the baby chewed the books and we watched the football. I had a fiver on Chile and they won. The baby feel asleep before the end of the match so I missed the Swiss free kick that was their best chance of the game. Just as well, if I'd been watching it, it would have gone in.

When Lynne gets home we will all have our tea. I will put up some recipes tomorrow.

Progress Report

I’ve just realised that I haven’t actually posted on how the baby is getting on for fucking ages. I’ve been chuntering on about every other bloody thing.

Anyway, she’s fine. Thanks. She still doesn’t have any teeth, I was a bit premature with mentioning them, but I can see the shining little white buds under her gums if I gawp into her mouth for long enough. The teething pain seems to have subsided for now and will come and go, oooh, until the teeth actually come in. Which could be any time over the next year. In the meantime, everything in here is absolutely chewed to death and covered in slobber. Everything. She has gummy little hands too, and likes to grab my nose with her thumb up my nostril while she slaps me with the other hand. It's horrible.

I was premature with the crawling too. The baby can roll about the floor quite confidently and sometimes she kicks her legs when she is on her belly as if she is trying to find a purchase with her knees, but she hasn’t figured out that she needs to lift her chest of the floor with her arms to become truly mobile.

I suppose the main development is that she doesn’t grunt so much when she has a poo. This would make it hard to tell if she had done one, but she has decided she will no longer tolerate a dirty nappy. The signal is now a hoarse shriek that is sometimes so hoarse it makes her cough.

She babbles all the time and recently I have noticed that there are times when she seems to say ‘Dadadada’ and ‘Mamamama’ in what would seem to be appropriate contexts, but I know this is wishful thinking. She is far, far too young to be talking yet.

She isn’t the little pudding she used to be, but she is still just a baby. But sometimes, when we put her in a dress, she looks like a proper little girl.

Public Information

APOLOGIES. THIS BLOG HAS BEEN TEMPORARILY DISRUPTED BY THE WORLD CUP. UNCONCERNED DAD HAS A FIVER EACH WAY ON ENGLAND TO WIN THE TOURNAMENT, WHICH IS A COMPLETE WASTE OF MONEY. POSTS ARE IN THE PIPELNE SO THERE WILL BE UPDATES OVER THE WEEKEND.

More Sweaty Dreaming

Strange dreams again this morning. I dreamt that me, my dad and my cousin who I haven't seen in years, were all in charge of security at the Kelvingrove Museum. There was a display of rare blue diamonds we were guarding but someone kept stealing them and putting them back, moving them about and stuff. Really irritating. On a more mundane level, though it seemed equally pressing at the time, I dreamt that I had put some soya milk in the freezer and forgotten to take it out.

'I'll give you a fiver if you give the baby her breakfast.'

That was Lynne's voice. The sun was streaming through our curtains, Lynne was looking really cozy and determined to be asleep* and the baby was lying on her belly, headbutting a puddle of drool that lay on her blanket. I went into the kitchen to mix up some baby rice with mashed banana. I was really feeling the sweaty waking-from-a-vivid-dream bamboozlement. The dreams are the product of waking early in the morning and then going back to sleep, my id going wild in the extra snooze-time. The baby has been waking at about 4.30am these light mornings, depending on how much milky pudding we can shovel into her after her dinner. The more milky pudding, the less she wakes up in the night.

Of course, I have no intention of taking that fiver off Lynne. I give the baby her breakfast most mornings anyway. And of course, I know you think I'm having anxiety dreams because Lynne is going back. to work soon. In two weeks to be precise. But you amateur psychiatrists don't know it all. I mean, just because I like my CDs in order doesn't mean I like to push things up my arse.

*She later told me it was the first morning since the birth she hadn't woken up with a sore back and she was really comfy. Just think about that for a second if you are going to have a baby, folks. It will be seven months on Sunday.