Well, Monsieur grump is slightly less of a grump today, although he did just throw a wobbly,mid pea, carrott and courgette feed and chuck his spoon with the the adept skill of a fast bowler across the floor. I then one handed cleaned up aforementioned pcc splat whilst Mr G looked on wearing the face of someone who wished they had the linguistic skill to say 'you've missed a bit.' Now he is dozing at the breast as I type.
Today has made me think about old and new mums (old as in experienced not old as in post 55 etc). At Rhyme Time (I went to get Z weighed but got sucked in by the lilting strains of 'Wind The Bobbin Up' coming from the room next door) today there was a mum with a 10 week old baby boy. The other mums gazed hungrily at the sleeping little slip of a thing, no doubt bemoaning how time flies and when did that little baby who needs you totally turn into a toddler, who runs away from you given half a chance...Mrs New Mum was a minor celebrity at the end as Other Mothers came to pay their respects at the altar of newborn. I found myself coming out with horrifying cliches such as 'they grow up so quickly' and having to beat a hasty retreat to the weigh in clinic in case I said 'Time just flies' and started looking wistful. Of course minutes later everyone else came up to the clinic too so I decided to chuck in a 'It gets easier' at the poor post partum woman just for good measure.
Then, in Tesco (my enforced spiritual home and day trip of choice ;)) I happened to be waiting by the Customer Service counter, brandishing a receipt and three tins of canned tomatoes, which had NOT come up as 3 for 2 and thus I wanted my 30p back when a oldish but glamorous woman approached Z. I had the blank look of someone who is trying to work out how much they value their time per hour if I was prepared to wait 10 minutes in a queue for 30p (£1.80 an hour - slave labour) when I heard the coo over my shoulder. Now one of my favourite things is when random people complement my child. I've had some odd comments e.g. 'Zachary? I know a Zachary...he's in prison.' but mostly I lap up the 'beautiful big eyes' and 'what a cutie' like a cat with Devon free range finest cream. Once the ubiquitous comments had been said and I was gratified that Mr Z chose this moment to beam happily at his admirer she began to bemoan the fact that her teenage children would no longer barely acknowledge her except to grunt and to 'make the most of it' (why didn't I think of that one earlier?!) while the happy days lasted before they grow up.
Now, to make her feel better and to put a certain sense of perspective on things, I began to tell her about how Mr Z had been very grumpy and had actually grunted at me too and that on all accounts he was exhibiting stroppy teenage behaviour too. She looked at me aghast. An ungrateful mother with her creamy blue eyed bundle of joy! Arrest her! I didn't realise I was meant to perpetuate the rosy tinted gloss of older parents and keep my sleepless nights; crying fits; never a second to yourself tales to myself.
I guess though, I did the same when I gazed at Newborn earlier. I didn't really recall the dog tired 'what the hell am I doing'? hormonal wobbles of the past few months. Perhaps that's what keeps us procreating....
Today has made me think about old and new mums (old as in experienced not old as in post 55 etc). At Rhyme Time (I went to get Z weighed but got sucked in by the lilting strains of 'Wind The Bobbin Up' coming from the room next door) today there was a mum with a 10 week old baby boy. The other mums gazed hungrily at the sleeping little slip of a thing, no doubt bemoaning how time flies and when did that little baby who needs you totally turn into a toddler, who runs away from you given half a chance...Mrs New Mum was a minor celebrity at the end as Other Mothers came to pay their respects at the altar of newborn. I found myself coming out with horrifying cliches such as 'they grow up so quickly' and having to beat a hasty retreat to the weigh in clinic in case I said 'Time just flies' and started looking wistful. Of course minutes later everyone else came up to the clinic too so I decided to chuck in a 'It gets easier' at the poor post partum woman just for good measure.
Then, in Tesco (my enforced spiritual home and day trip of choice ;)) I happened to be waiting by the Customer Service counter, brandishing a receipt and three tins of canned tomatoes, which had NOT come up as 3 for 2 and thus I wanted my 30p back when a oldish but glamorous woman approached Z. I had the blank look of someone who is trying to work out how much they value their time per hour if I was prepared to wait 10 minutes in a queue for 30p (£1.80 an hour - slave labour) when I heard the coo over my shoulder. Now one of my favourite things is when random people complement my child. I've had some odd comments e.g. 'Zachary? I know a Zachary...he's in prison.' but mostly I lap up the 'beautiful big eyes' and 'what a cutie' like a cat with Devon free range finest cream. Once the ubiquitous comments had been said and I was gratified that Mr Z chose this moment to beam happily at his admirer she began to bemoan the fact that her teenage children would no longer barely acknowledge her except to grunt and to 'make the most of it' (why didn't I think of that one earlier?!) while the happy days lasted before they grow up.
Now, to make her feel better and to put a certain sense of perspective on things, I began to tell her about how Mr Z had been very grumpy and had actually grunted at me too and that on all accounts he was exhibiting stroppy teenage behaviour too. She looked at me aghast. An ungrateful mother with her creamy blue eyed bundle of joy! Arrest her! I didn't realise I was meant to perpetuate the rosy tinted gloss of older parents and keep my sleepless nights; crying fits; never a second to yourself tales to myself.
I guess though, I did the same when I gazed at Newborn earlier. I didn't really recall the dog tired 'what the hell am I doing'? hormonal wobbles of the past few months. Perhaps that's what keeps us procreating....
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