Much as I'm glad to see the back of Little Johnny, and welcome Rudd 07's 08 plans for 18 wks maternity benefit (can we have it backdated please?), I'm a bit concerned about his proposed IR Law reforms. I mean, as a small business enterprise employer, with a workforce of 1.5 (dad has half the week off, so he only counts as part-time), I'd be ruined by a return to collective bargaining and reinstalling of workers' rights. My employees are already murmuring about forming a union, The Lactationers and Toxic Waste Disposalers (LATWaD), and demanding rights such as a shorter working week, fixed breaks and holiday pay. Holidays? Dream on... they'll be expecting me to donate MY Costello Bonus towards their trip to Bali next.
Then there's all this sustainability nonsense. Let's just face it - babies are unsustainable. I've given up counting the cost of my carbon emissions but I've only got an 8 cm footprint, and I don't think that's excessive for a 3.5 week old.
Dad says I've trebled the volume of garbage the family generates, but quite frankly, I don't think they were trying very hard before. Filling the bin is easy, and it's just not efficient for the council to empty half-filled bins.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
stuck in a rut
Sorry for the lapse in blogging, but two weeks in and life's developed a sort of ennui and there hasn't been much to report. Went to Northcote 8 festival on Sunday (as Father Bob said on Triple J, the sun comes out and every bugger decides to hold a festival) - it was ok, but nothing that exciting to rouse me from a decent kip.
To break the routine of eating and poo'ing, I've decided to start training for the Toddlerympics in Wagga 2010... I'm kind of hoping Mum'll put me on a special diet, 'cos the milk thing is starting to become monotonous. I've obviously entered all events, but I reckon my best chances of medals will be in the Under 6kg Unsynchronized Leg Kicks (both Intensity and Endurance events), the Musicless Random Flailing of Arms, and the boxing of course - Mum says I'm a little Barry Hall, although I prefer comparisons with Barry McGuigan, the Clones Cyclone. Caught Dad a beaut in the eye the other morning - it'd've floored a lesser man, were it not for the fact he was already lying down - and Mum's boobs are excellent pummel-bags. Auntie E just sent me a Paddington Bear, so I'll practice some of my wrestling moves on him too.
Right, back to the ring... Dad keeps on looking out anxiously for post - something about a supply and demand problem and consignment of Bambo nappies being due for delivery. While I'm a bit more relaxed about the whole bottom thing, I do agree that the other 'market leader' nappies he's been wrapping me in of late are shit-house.
To break the routine of eating and poo'ing, I've decided to start training for the Toddlerympics in Wagga 2010... I'm kind of hoping Mum'll put me on a special diet, 'cos the milk thing is starting to become monotonous. I've obviously entered all events, but I reckon my best chances of medals will be in the Under 6kg Unsynchronized Leg Kicks (both Intensity and Endurance events), the Musicless Random Flailing of Arms, and the boxing of course - Mum says I'm a little Barry Hall, although I prefer comparisons with Barry McGuigan, the Clones Cyclone. Caught Dad a beaut in the eye the other morning - it'd've floored a lesser man, were it not for the fact he was already lying down - and Mum's boobs are excellent pummel-bags. Auntie E just sent me a Paddington Bear, so I'll practice some of my wrestling moves on him too.
Right, back to the ring... Dad keeps on looking out anxiously for post - something about a supply and demand problem and consignment of Bambo nappies being due for delivery. While I'm a bit more relaxed about the whole bottom thing, I do agree that the other 'market leader' nappies he's been wrapping me in of late are shit-house.
Monday, September 15, 2008
words of advice
Funny how you plan a quiet weekend only for it to turn into an absolute bender! Partied all Friday and Saturday nights, and hit the bottle again last night... passed out at some stage; can't remember nuffink after 3am - it was mad. SO much fun.
Mum and Dad stayed up too - they didn't have to. I mean, I can look after myself, and 30-somethings need their sleep. Unlike us young'uns... Can't wait until next weekend - might even invite some mates round.
We keep on getting visited by midwives, which is all well and good, but they're interrupting feeding times and starting to give me the shits. And, they ALL have contradictory advice - I'm starting to worry that Dad will make a concoction of all the things they've recommended putting on my belly-button (which is fine, just a bit gunky - if Mum's worried about that, she should see my arse! Oh yeah, I wish she'd stop noting down every time I have a poo - I'm starting to get a complex).
One thing us Zzzzers need to remember is that whoever shouts loudest shouts last. Dad had this ridiculous theory that I should sleep in my cot, rather than their bed (or wherever), but a few minutes of hysterics on Fri night soon wore them into submission. C'mon, I wasn't born yesterday - parents will do anything to placate a crying baby.
Right, better toddle on - need to look up "little bugger" in an on-line dictionary, as the phrase seems to be being bandied about rather a lot these days.
Mum and Dad stayed up too - they didn't have to. I mean, I can look after myself, and 30-somethings need their sleep. Unlike us young'uns... Can't wait until next weekend - might even invite some mates round.
We keep on getting visited by midwives, which is all well and good, but they're interrupting feeding times and starting to give me the shits. And, they ALL have contradictory advice - I'm starting to worry that Dad will make a concoction of all the things they've recommended putting on my belly-button (which is fine, just a bit gunky - if Mum's worried about that, she should see my arse! Oh yeah, I wish she'd stop noting down every time I have a poo - I'm starting to get a complex).
One thing us Zzzzers need to remember is that whoever shouts loudest shouts last. Dad had this ridiculous theory that I should sleep in my cot, rather than their bed (or wherever), but a few minutes of hysterics on Fri night soon wore them into submission. C'mon, I wasn't born yesterday - parents will do anything to placate a crying baby.
Right, better toddle on - need to look up "little bugger" in an on-line dictionary, as the phrase seems to be being bandied about rather a lot these days.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
A week is a long time...
Had a great kip last night, apart from 'yon parental unit' periodically waking me up to feed and stuff (Mum obviously didn't read the previous blog entry about 'stuff', but the carpet looks much cleaner now, after all that scrubbing). Mum and Dad mean well, but they don't seem to realise I can multi-task and don't need to have all those bright lights on to 'suck suck swallow' (I wish Dad'd remember the 3s are SO passé now - the new mantra is 'suck swallow breathe').
I learnt that one on Tues, when I went back to the Mercy to catch up with a few mates in the breast feeding clinic. They may be able to out-cry me, but Mum was proud of my loud "fluffies". Dad claims he went into the office while we were busy there (no big boys allowed, given all the boobs on display), but that doesn't sound a likely story to me.
People have been v kind, sending all sorts of clothes and stuff - particular faves include Sandra's giraffe top and my mate Lloyd (Pru's 3 month old)'s 'Far out, brussel sprout' t-shirt. Dad keeps on trying to squeeze me into 0000 flannettes - I think he's hoping they'll stretch, but considering I've re-bounded to birth-weight in 3 days and am quaffing as much 'boost juice' as Mum can produce, he's dreaming.
Haven't got any real plans for the weekend - thought I'd have a quiet one in on Fri night watching the footie, and maybe head over to Preston on Sat arvo. Mum keeps on talking about me getting a pony and Dad says there's a quadruped at Nonna's house which would do just as well. I have my doubts about this Harry the horse-substitute...
I learnt that one on Tues, when I went back to the Mercy to catch up with a few mates in the breast feeding clinic. They may be able to out-cry me, but Mum was proud of my loud "fluffies". Dad claims he went into the office while we were busy there (no big boys allowed, given all the boobs on display), but that doesn't sound a likely story to me.
People have been v kind, sending all sorts of clothes and stuff - particular faves include Sandra's giraffe top and my mate Lloyd (Pru's 3 month old)'s 'Far out, brussel sprout' t-shirt. Dad keeps on trying to squeeze me into 0000 flannettes - I think he's hoping they'll stretch, but considering I've re-bounded to birth-weight in 3 days and am quaffing as much 'boost juice' as Mum can produce, he's dreaming.
Haven't got any real plans for the weekend - thought I'd have a quiet one in on Fri night watching the footie, and maybe head over to Preston on Sat arvo. Mum keeps on talking about me getting a pony and Dad says there's a quadruped at Nonna's house which would do just as well. I have my doubts about this Harry the horse-substitute...
Sunday, September 7, 2008
8 b4 8
When Dad was a lad, he studied at Cambers and encountered (but came no-where near completing) many strange and decadent traditions, including the 8 before 8 Club - members qualified by consuming 8 pints on King Street, before 8pm. Naturally, I wouldn't condone such excesses, but I think I can match those feats, albeit in pints of milk and/or poos.
Got off to a flying start this morning, at least for the latter, although Dad was less than impressed when his fave Syrian carpet was on the receiving end of a messy moment. Silly place to put it, if you ask me. I therefore thought I might give some tips for new dads:
1: nappies - make sure they're securely fastened on... us babies can wiggle out of more constraints than Hoodini
2: interpreting baby noises - it's quite simple. WAAAA means I'm hungry; WAAAA means I need a change; WAAAA... just keeping you on your toes.
3: just because it's mum's b'day today (and grandpa Colin's), doesn't mean she gets a lie-in
They'll learn...
:-)
Friday, September 5, 2008
the homecoming
As it turned out, we didn't need to escape the hopspittal - I rather suspect they threw us out due to a couple of messy moments I had yesterday. All perfectly normal - I mean, what goes in must come out.
The new abode's ok - bit quieter than the ward (some of those kids are really gurners), but I'm periodically going my best to change that. I think of crying as a way to meet the neighbours. Uncle Duncan's given me a bottle of Jamesons, in case I get bored of milk... and Aunty Coral has given me some booties which is great 'cos I do get cold feet, even on lovely sunny days like this.
I have to say Dad's got a bit of work to do - I mean, the place needs a good vacuuming and MY room is full of books and soil-encrusted archaeological stuff. I guess I'll have to stay in their room until he sorts out a new storage facility. The soccer and Touch balls can stay 'tho...
The new abode's ok - bit quieter than the ward (some of those kids are really gurners), but I'm periodically going my best to change that. I think of crying as a way to meet the neighbours. Uncle Duncan's given me a bottle of Jamesons, in case I get bored of milk... and Aunty Coral has given me some booties which is great 'cos I do get cold feet, even on lovely sunny days like this.
I have to say Dad's got a bit of work to do - I mean, the place needs a good vacuuming and MY room is full of books and soil-encrusted archaeological stuff. I guess I'll have to stay in their room until he sorts out a new storage facility. The soccer and Touch balls can stay 'tho...
Thursday, September 4, 2008
the folks
Here's mum - she likes looking at me
And here's dad, who's kindly typing up my musings (at least until I get a high chair for the compoota and get my hands free from this swaddling thing)
And here's dad, who's kindly typing up my musings (at least until I get a high chair for the compoota and get my hands free from this swaddling thing)
Day 1
Got born today - a bit messy, and traumatic towards the end, but could've been worse. I quite liked the balmy 36 deg inside Mum, but ultimately, the whole pregnancy malarky got a bit confining. Now I've got the run of a whole ward and I'm planning an escape into the outdoors on Sat. Dad's going to drive the get-away, a la Steve McQueen, assuming he doesn't get too hammered out with Duncan and the pgrads on Fri night... Mum says not to expect a 9am'er.
Mum's great - not only did she carry me around for 9+ months without too much complaint but she's now opting for demand feeding: as much milk as I can drink, as and when I want it. I'm sure it won't last... Dad doesn't really do much, although to be fair he did take me swimming this arvo and changed my 1st soiled nappy (bit of a stinker, I'm afraid - sorry). He's said we can go for a kickabout in the park later when Mum's cooking tea.
I haven't quite decided who I follow in the footie yet, although obviously not the Pies (what was Mum thinking?). Dad heard the Herd's '(The King is dead) Everything must change' on the radio on the way home this morning, which seemed quite appropriate.
Beijing Olympics? That was SO before my time... don't know what all the fuss was about.
Right, better have some kip now... or some more milk? Decisions, decisions... I'm not X or Y, rather Gen Zzzz and this is the World According to FinnT, aged 20 hours and 6 minutes.
Mum's great - not only did she carry me around for 9+ months without too much complaint but she's now opting for demand feeding: as much milk as I can drink, as and when I want it. I'm sure it won't last... Dad doesn't really do much, although to be fair he did take me swimming this arvo and changed my 1st soiled nappy (bit of a stinker, I'm afraid - sorry). He's said we can go for a kickabout in the park later when Mum's cooking tea.
I haven't quite decided who I follow in the footie yet, although obviously not the Pies (what was Mum thinking?). Dad heard the Herd's '(The King is dead) Everything must change' on the radio on the way home this morning, which seemed quite appropriate.
Beijing Olympics? That was SO before my time... don't know what all the fuss was about.
Right, better have some kip now... or some more milk? Decisions, decisions... I'm not X or Y, rather Gen Zzzz and this is the World According to FinnT, aged 20 hours and 6 minutes.
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