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Prima Baby

As December draws near I turn my thoughts to the events of the past year. Our little boy is nearly one and soon the baby phase will be over (such a bittersweet farewell)… what an eventful 12 months: Not only did I start this blog, but we have also negotiated between the four of us, 2 new jobs, a house move, a new school and far too many sleepless nights….

However, what some of you dont know is that Baby Roo is in fact a Christmasmain day baby!! and, for that reason, our birth story has made it into the December issue of Prima baby this month. Why not check it out? And to get you into the spirit of Christmas you may like to read my version of events….

Twas the night before Christmas- A birth story

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Twas the night before Christmas- A Birth Story

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
I began some deep breathing, leaning over the couch
My hubby inflated, the birth pool with air
In hopes that the midwives, soon would be there.

While our daughter was nestled, all snug in her bed,
I located the waterproof sheet from the shed.
And carefully placed it, (I hear waters can snap)
Over our bed, to takea short nap

Next from downstairs, arose such a clatter,
I rolled off of the bed, to see what was the matter.
away to the door, I hobbled between
contractions that made, me feel very green

My husband, through nerves, had neglected to see
the presents placed under the Christmas tree.
so, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a confused dad-to-be, with a face full of fear.

With an increase in nerves, and a baby so keen
We knew the moment had come, ‘call the jubilee team!’
More rapid than eagles, with pain relief she came,
Despite the awkward date: Cheryl by name!

‘Now try to relax, take deep breaths and count
I’ll take your vitals and write an account’
Why not walk up the stairs, or bounce on your ball
This could take a while, I’ll be here through it all

Between each belly tightening, I declared it quite easy
Only during contractions, did I feel fairly queasy
So bowls were fetched, in case I needed to spew,
Not glamorous no, but I’m being truthful with you

And then, in a twinkling, I heard up the stairs
Some prancing and dancing, ‘Santas been’ she declares
And I held in the pain, and turned myself round,
Down the stairs little Harriet, came with a bound.

She was dressed in her jammies, so excited, oh bless her,
We decided the grandparents, place would be better.
The bundle of Toys, would just have to wait,
We promised her Christmas, but at later a date.

Next my waters were broken, and time it stood still
‘Rest and be thankful’, Cheryl told me ‘just chill’
The pushing stage, would be tough as could be
But I’d not be alone, and ‘power to me’

Well try as I might, with gritting of teeth
Our bundle of joy, was unwilling to leave
while a transfer to hospital, was my greatest fear
I was tired and grumpy, (swearing a lot- so I hear)

Though the journey was 10 mins, it felt like an hour
I cried and I winced and I felt I’d lost power
But when we arrived, I gave it one final shot
And stuck-baby turned, (much to my shock)

‘It’s a Boy’ cried my husband, ‘with lots of dark hair’
Overcome with emotion, I did nothing but stare
Finally here after nine month of waiting
So perfect, our Rupert (all 9lb 1 of-him)

Cheryl quietly worked, to her team gave call,
We’re very grateful for, the support of them all.
She passed on her wishes, when she took her leave,
‘Happy Christmas to all, look at what you’ve achieved’1003824_10152019283914498_238448189_n

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Adventures on the road

You know the story, you’re setting off for a few days away, excited for a break but the prospect of 4 hours in the car fills you with dread. You think back to your childhood and the phrases used by your parents on such journeys and, with horror, you realise that you too have uttered the fateful words to your own little ones on more than one occasion.

‘Don’t make me turn this car around’ this is often accompanied by the paralysing fear that you might actually have to carry it through….. we have done this once, it wasn’t as dramatic as it could be, given that we had to drive a good four miles to find a suitable turning spot, and then driving for nearly an hour back home before we felt calm had been restored long enough to continue on our merry way.

Various forms of ‘Are we there yet?’…. ‘When will we get there’ and ‘How much longer’ run riot. I refrain from giving set times, something which infuriated me as a child. Yet how can a 7 year old comprehend the following: A misguided satnav, a misguided map reader (normally me), 3 lanes of stand still traffic on the motorway or that stopping for a toilet break adds 30 mins on to a journey while you locate the services, park 2 miles from the entrance, negotiate fellow weary travellers and have the ‘service station shops do not sell boiled sweets’ discussion. Those packets are for display purposes only, no self-respecting outlet would add a 200% mark-up bon bons… surely?

My eldest didn’t quite understand why we wanted to go the ‘pretty way’ home last week.

On deciding he was fed up of miles of concrete and bored of the licence plate game….. (also needing fresh material for eye spy having exhausted: car, road, sky and tree for the last 2 hours), my husband, and our out of date satnav, took to the country lanes for an adventure. No sooner had we found ourselves on a beautiful (but winding) B road then we heard the ill-fated words… ‘Mummy, I need the bathroom’, Cue a race against time…. After 20 mins (and some close shaves, involving 3 sneezes and a quaint waterfall), we arrived at a picturesque village on the edge of the Devonshire moors.

This was the kind of village where each house had a beautiful array of hanging baskets and the local shop was decorated with bunting. Tiny cobbled side streets led to a traditional church yard with a noticeboard to local events and newsletters detailing bingo, craft fayres and choir practice….. It also had some public loos….. With sigh of relief the eldest made it to the cubical in time…. Scott and baby Roo explored the area while H took a longer than average amount of time in the stall. The boys returned concluding it really was an award winning location.

I can only guess, that in such a perfect village no one thought to check the plumbing system of the public toilet……… I can just see the hurt, bewilderment and confusion at the next village meeting when someone asked… ‘Just who WAS that slummy family who came to our village last week? Did you know, they came, they pooed and then they left…..’ Yes the flush was broken…. Sorry elders of Looville! We promise we’ll stick to motorway services in future……

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Half-term song

Hello all, So after a few days off I thought I’d share with you all what we have been up to over the half term, some I may even make into blog posts….. Extra stress on the MAY as I’m sure you’re still awaiting the rest of my experiment… cough…. cough, never set goals, you’ll only feel like a failure when you don’t succeed.
Anywho, given that there’s less 8 weeks till Christmas I thought I’d break into song…

For the half-term holiday the Macdonald family (had)

12 Plastic SpidersDSCF3585edit
11 cups of coffee
10 dirty nappies
9 home-made cupcakes
8 loads of washing
7 hours Ikea-ing
5 days off work
4 calved pumpkins
3 lie ins
2 days in Bristol
And a fast trip to A and E