A fairly typical update by my standards. We’ve had a busy few days.
On Thursday Ben, Ciaran and I went to Milton Keynes with my parents. Ben had already worked his way through a bowl of oatso simple, nectarine and dairylea dunkers for breakfast so I assumed that he wouldn’t need feeding until late lunch time which allowed us to go to MK at the weird hour of 11am.
I called my parents to say I was ready to go and then realised that I hadn’t got any clean bottles, let alone sterilised ones filled with milk and that Ciaran was smelling suspiciously pooey. In typical how not to be a good mummy style I sat pooey Ciaran in his chair speed washed the bottles, shoved them in the steriliser and decided that I could buy a carton of milk in Milton Keynes. I sprinted up the stairs as quickly as I could with a child under each arm to destink Ciaran.
My parents only had to wait a short time while I packed a nappy bag, made Ben’s squash and grabbed a boiling hot sterilised bottle and pair of scissors for later. Milton Keynes was again relatively empty. We had fun in Next looking at baby clothes for baby Brendan (I used my years of Mummy wisdom to recommend getting ‘proper’ clothes in a 3-6 month size as they grow out of 0-3 quickly and in the early days are more comfy in a sleep suit). Ben amused himself by sticking his tongue out and licking the mirrors to the annoyance of the staff in Next.
Next stop Boots, for milk etc.. and Clintons for cards. After doing my Mum’s banking we went to Midsummer Boulevard for lunch. Ciaran was starving so I suggested we went to the italian where I would have time to feed Ciaran before my dinner arrived. It used to be a Ponti’s and the last time I was there the staff were shocked at my decision to feed a tiny baby a huge portion of food (I’m sure they thought I was greedy and ordered it for me to eat) but enough time has passed and it is now operating under a new name so I felt safe to go there.
Sure enough we ordered our food (sausages and chips for Ben, lasagne and foccacia for me, meatball sub for my Dad, soup and foccacia for my Mum) and Ciaran grudgingly agreed to drink an unwarmed bottle of milk. The whole carton of SMA gold was drunk very quickly, I settled him into his pushchair gingerly (waiting for a milk eruption) as my lasagne arrived.
Ben ate all of his large sausage and nearly all of the chips. He was falling asleep as he pushed the last chips into his mouth but woke up to defend his plate of food when my Dad tried to take a chip. My tiny toddler demolished his children’s meal. I’m not sure where he puts it all, afterwards when he saw an ice-cream stand he made it clear that he had space for an icecream; but, not fancying cleaning regurgitated ice-cream off my Dad’s car I said no.
The big advantage to the restaurant is that it is right in front of the musical frog, we finished just in time for Ben and my Dad to join the children under the frog waiting for it to chime the hour and blow bubbles out of its mouth. Ben was easily the smallest (and probably youngest) child there, but he threw himself into the middle of the crowd leaping around to catch a bubble, squeaking with excitement.
Ciaran has also kept me on my toes, yesterday he attempted to break the world’s pooiest baby record. Poo when he woke up, a tiny poo after a breast feed, a large poo after a bottle. In general at any point that I picked him up, he pooed. The coupe de grace came in the afternoon. He was crying and I wasn’t going to warm up a bottle for him to sip at an ounce and reject the rest so I breast fed him.
I had promised to bake with Ben so I passed Ciaran to his Dad ready to nip to Tesco’s for eggs. I warned hubby that Ciaran had been very windy and then stuck my hand in something warm and soft. Ciaran had done a huge poo, and it had dripped out of his nappy, vest and trousers onto my skirt. Hubby stood there holding a crappy drippy baby at arms length panicking and then decided that the best option would be to dangle the still dripping Ciaran over me, on the grounds that I already had poo on my clothes.
Oh the joys of parenting.
Finally – don’t forget the carnival of eating. I’m collecting posts about feeding our darling children – if you have something delicious for me to include let me know in the comments on the carnival of eating post or email it to me firstname.lastname@example.org