Back to Work

Back to work today and back to some kind of routine, at least for me.

So two weeks on, and what lessons have we learnt?

We have learnt that babies should not drink bath water. That thrashing around in the bath is not a baby's way of saying it is having fun but rather an indication that it is choking and would like to have a bit of a back rub and to spit up the bath water it has drunk.

I have also learnt that Grace is the third most popular baby name in 2008 (In England). This has, of course, left me feeling a little depressed that it’s the name we settled on - I have only ever known one person called Grace and so thought it was a safe bet.

Before the birth of my daughter, people informed me in a knowing way that you can't understand how it will change your life until you have a baby. That it will change the way you see everything and think about everything. That may happen. It may just be a delayed reaction on my part, but parenthood is as I anticipated. We do all the same things, go to the same places, we just have a baby with us when we do so. Admittedly, Grace seems to make herself the centre of attention, and serves as an invitation to strangers to say "hello" – for some reason particually in supermarkets.

While I am not a great fan of people, I have found myself prepared to listen to people telling me how beautiful she is, and I do feel rather splendid wandering around with her in a sling. I am always a little confused when people say “well done” on seeing her. Having a baby doesn’t seem like an achievement I can claim any great credit for. If she turns out to be a wonderful young lady, then I will be able to claim some credit in having brought her up well, but having merely succeded in fathering her, I feel no particualar claim to credit. People seem obsessed with telling me that she either looks like me or her mother, although I suspect that mostly, she looks like a baby.

There also seems to be a bit of a gender obsession. We do not dress her in great swathes of pink and bows. Instead she wears baby grows – mostly those from her aunt and an American friend as they are of a far higher quality than those we have got as hand-me-downs. As such, looking at her with a baby grow on, it is impossible to distinguish her gender. Yet people who refer to her as a "he" seem terribly embarssed when they ask her name and we reveal that she is indeed a she not a he. It does not create any offence on our part at all. If it bothered us we would dress her in pink as that seems to be the cue that makes the gender link for people.

As time goes on we may discover that Grace is a girly girl who likes nothing better than party frocks. Or she might prefer jeans. The choice is hers, and I have no particular desire to impose it on her from such an early age. Such outfits have far to many buttons for my liking anyway. Baby grows are a far easier option.

Ahhh.. I have just thought of one thing that came as a surprise..the number of nappies she gets through. Her record is currently at 16 in one day. We are using reusable washable nappies – which, also to our surprise, take 2-3 days to dry. This is creating a bit of a battle in trying to have enough nappies to get through each day..I did momentarily flirt with a disposable nappy when she ran out – it was a free sample – I put it on her...and, well, it was plastic and nasty in every way, and I couldn’t bring myself to leave her in it, and so it was out with the safety pins and a bit of cloth for an old style nappy as opposed to the Velcro pre shapped reusables.

Well that’s it for now.

Yours as ever,

The Broken Man

On being anonymous

If you had to picture me, and I can see no reason for you ever having the need, I wonder what mental image you would conjure up to go with my words.

Of late, my appearance has been subtly changing, I noticed it yesterday when I looked in my wardrobe. Some things I wore three or four years ago I wouldn’t wear now (okay they wouldn’t fit even if I wanted to).

Back in “the day” I wore ill-matched clothes brought from charity shops, I turned unfashionableness into an art and avoided even sitting in the traditional rebellion camps of goth and punk. As a very young boy I wore a bow tie and felt that braces were the way to go. As time went on make up was added to my arsnell and then briefly I flirted with the whole goth thing, although as my search through my old records revealed – I liked little of the music – I was to all intents and purposes, a lipstick goth. I did try the punk thing very briefly but the Mohican wasn’t a good look for me, and in honesty I found it all a little tiring. I didn’t feel angry at the world – I felt bored with it – and so the goth crowd seemed a far better home all be it one I didn’t belong to.

Next came my ultra camp phase, I wore full make up, and dungarees, androgyny was the order of the day, and I blushed with pride when people told me I looked like Boy George. I didn’t stop there though, I kept going wondering if, at heart, I was more girl than boy. With time, I abandoned my make up and grew a goatie beard to replace it. I wore velvet and stripy trousers, big fluffy coats and went for the ridiculous, if it made me smile it was to be worn. With a step into the world of burlesque I felt rather ungainly in my attire and matched my waist coats with crisp shirts. Now I have the appearance of a gentlemen, all be it one who has fallen on bad times. I love fine clothes – clothes that actually feel good on, and stiching that doesn’t fall apart. When I look back on my clothing phases the only one I would return to willingly was my teenage age years of androgyny, when I was thin enough and had the cheek bones to carry it off make up. As it is, I will take a seat in my leather arm chair, open up a copy of The Chap magazine and hope that someone brings me a stiff drink.

Yours in a suit,

The Broken Man

Soften (and Brighten) my World

I went Christmas shopping today - I'm trying to get most of it done before the baby is born, as I suspect there won't be much time afterwards. I didn't actually manage to find much, but I never do first time out.

However, as a by-product of the Christmas shopping, I continued my long-running search for soft baby socks. We have been given loads of clothes by people who have had children, but socks are the one thing we are short of. Personally, I prefer to be barefoot, and certainly wouldn't go down the pram-shoes/crawlers route, but being practical, this baby is going to be born in the depths of winter, and probably will need some form of sock to keep warm.

I have got a bit of a bee in my bonnet about things being soft and lovely next to the baby's skin - it's part sentimental, I admit, but part practical; Broken Man and I both have allergies, and I can't help thinking soft against delicate skin must be better than crunchy. So began the hunt for soft socks. I can't find any anywhere - maybe cotton does soften up after a few washes, but what if it doesn't? The terry towelling ones start off *really* hard and quite horrible. I found some today which were velour, and thought that, at last, my search was over - but, no, the insides were terry.

Broken Man has some gloriously soft bamboo socks, but I can't find any for babies. I was given some lovely "feather-feel" socks for Christmas last year which would be perfect - but they don't make them for babies.

I was getting very confused. I now have sleepsuits and babygrows in fluffy fleece, buttery organic cotton, silky soft velour and the most amazing furry material, so what's the problem with socks? I had a revelation when I got home and started hanging out some latest batch of baby clothes I had washed. Some of them were inside out, and I realised that (with the exception of the organic cotton) the insides felt nothing like the outside!

The whole thing is a vicious marketing scam. The shops know that we want our babies to feel soft and lovely, and they have made the outsides of their garments wonderfully tactile - without a thought for the baby inside them. It's purely for the benefit of the adult!

It's the same with colour. I know that babies don't really see colour very effectively - I believe they can see black, white and red, but I'm sure that someone will correct me if I'm wrong, so why are all baby clothes (as Broken Man puts it) "offensively pastel"?

I thought perhaps it was the choice of the lovely people who gave us the clothes, so I thought we might treat ourselves to one set of clothes in some nice bright shades that *we* like (as the baby clearly won't have a preferance!). Perhaps some nice bright purples, reds, turquoise....

Again it appears that the shops have decided that people like to see babies in pastels (or white), and the only places you can buy bright baby clothes are from designer and specialist websites, where you could happily pay upwards of £20 for one babygrow. My sister has swapped her designer handbag obsession for a designer babygrow obsession and has very kindly bought us a few - but I object to anyone wasting so much money on something the baby will wear for maybe a month!

I think I will start dying my own - I'm not going to be dictated to by Mothercare! :) And on the sock front, my lovely mother-in-law foolishly offered to knit some things for the baby, so I have bought some feather-feel "wool" and will be setting her to work!

Broken Man's Wife