Breastfeeding? Not for me, thanks.

That's what I thought. Breastfeeding, not for me thank you.

When I had Marie, I was a young 24 year old woman. The thought of breastfeeding hadn't even entered my mind. I don't even think that it was presented as an option in the hospital. I wasn't really aware of it. For me, a baby was fed with a bottle, end of.

By the time I had Noelie, breastfeeding revival was well on its way. A bit too much if you ask me. I felt like breastfeeding was pushed down my throat. It felt as if every midwife, nurse and doctor I met wanted me to breastfeed. Unfortunately, I'm the kind of person who will do exactly the opposite of what people try to get me to do if they push too hard. Telling me that I must read such a book, will only result in creating a very strong aversion of said book in me and ensure that I will never, I repeat never, pick up that book, ever. Same goes for breastfeeding, talk to me too much about it, try and push me too much in that direction and I will not even consider it.

I think that I saw breastfeeding as a bit of a hippy, new age thing to do and something that didn't really fit in with my corporate, busy working mother image. The whole feeding on demand thing didn't seem to make for a great routine that fit in with the lifestyle I had at the time (poor excuse I know since being on maternity leave the whole corporate, working mum image didn't exist anymore).

This time around, when I was asked during my first visit in hospital if I intended to breastfeed and I answered no, nothing else was said about it. No disapproving look, no lecture, nothing. I didn't think anymore about it until during the last couple of months of my pregnancy. My breasts started leaking, quite profusely at night and I joked with Mr Foodie on a few occasions that maybe I could breastfeed this baby. It was never really serious and I never read up on it or anything (apart from what I read in the blogosphere). We bought our bottles etc (we still had the steriliser from Noelie) and were all set for another round of bottle feeding.

Until after the birth that is. When the nurse came around, a few hours after the birth and said it was time to feed this little man, she asked me how I wanted to feed him. Automatically, I answered bottle. Mr Foodie looked at me and mentioned the fact that I'd said I might give breastfeeding a try. I looked at him and at the nurse and said OK, I'm going to try it. Mr Foodie and I had never really discussed it, well, not very seriously anyway so I have to admit that I was a bit surprised. The nurse helped Little Man to latch on and off we were on our breastfeeding journey. I had no idea what to expect having never really given it serious thought and never researched it. It just felt like the natural thing to do at the time.

It surprised everybody around us, I think. Having bottle-fed Noelie, people expected us to do the same with Little Man. We don't come from backgrounds where breastfeeding is common and we had never mentioned it before. My only experience with breastfeeding was that of  my aunt who was advised by her pediatrician to switch to bottle feeding as she managed to overfeed her baby while breastfeeding. That being said, she also managed to over feed him on the bottle and the poor child was wearing 2 year old clothes at the age of 8 months. Despite being surprised, nobody had anything negative to say about it. I know that some of them felt rather uncomfortable at the idea of me taking my boobs out to feed Little Man. I think others felt a tad disappointed too (and still are) at the exclusivity of the whole breastfeeding experience as they wouldn't get to feed Little Man for a little while. But if they do think anything negative about it, they certainly never mentioned it to me or to Mr Foodie. The nurse later said to us that she had never met a couple that made the decision between breast or bottle in such a natural, easy going, spur of the moment kind of way.

Maybe it is because we made a natural decision, with no expectations or pressure (self inflicted or otherwise) that breastfeeding has worked out so well for us. Maybe it was because I knew I could give up whenever I wanted if it didn't feel right, or if it wasn't working out without feeling guilty but rather proud that I gave it a go. Maybe it is because we did approach the whole thing with no knowledge whatsoever. We have since spent hours reading up on it but I think that if I had read about it too much beforehand, I probably would never have given it a go. If I had been told of cracked and sore nipples, of toe curling pain (and, yes, you literally do curl your toes), of no feeding schedule as such, of times of cluster feeds, I wouldn't have given it a go. And I am so glad that I never did read about all that, because, despite the hard times and the pain, despite the tiredness, breastfeeding is one of the most beautiful things I have experienced with a baby. It is not easy and there were times where I was close to tears with the pain and the tiredness. Little Man didn't latch on properly until a couple of weeks ago and I had terribly cracked nipples (it looked like a quarter of my nipple had been peeled off at some stage) and the pain was near unbearable  for a few seconds but once it stopped, it was fine.

Mr Foodie has been extremely supportive through the whole thing and has become very knowledgeable on the subject. I know he is proud of me for giving it a go and for sticking to it. And I am very grateful that he has been so supportive. He will tell anybody who will listen (people like the other blokes at work) how great breastfeeding is. He, too, is a convert. We love the fact that there are no bottles to wash and sterilise, that there is no paraphernalia to carry around when out and about. You don't need to worry about heating up bottles or having enough formula. You don't need to remember to buy it in the supermarket. It is there, at the right temperature, in the right amount and free.

I can understand why some people do not want to try, or are not interested. I was one of them once. Some of the literature you can read feels a bit like german propaganda in the 1940s. Some people are way to pushy or judgemental if you say that you have no interest in breastfeeding. I think it takes a certain maturity and a certain confidence to attempt breastfeeding. It is demanding from a physical and mental point of view but it is also strangely extremely rewarding. I had never thought I would be a convert to breastfeeding but I am. I won't be joining the so-called breastapo soon as I believe that everybody is free to choose which way to feed their baby (and some people sadly have no choice in the matter). I didn't join any breastfeeding groups etc and I will not be criticizing or judge anybody who decides to bottle feed their baby. I bottle fed my 2 girls and don't regret doing it. It was what was right for me at the time. And at the end of the day, it's all about what's right for you and your baby at the time.

The name game.

With a little under 5 weeks to go now, you would expect us to know what we are going to name the little monkey that keeps me awake at night. At this stage of pregnancy, most people have the name picked out whether or not they know if it is going to be a girl or a boy.

I have written already about the added difficulty for us to find a name. We need to find a name that works in French and in English. Too Irish a spelling and you've got the French side of the family unable to read it (or even pronounce it, I still can't pronounce Oisin properly, no matter how many times I hear it), too French a pronunciation and it's being continuously butchered mispronounced by the Irish side. Marie's name was picked out even before she was conceived and is pronounced in a similar way in both languages, Noelie's name we found by chance on a Christmas card while shopping (she was born at the end of May, so plenty of time in advance!).

This time around, we know we are having a boy. A few months ago, Mr Foodie asked if he could chose the name. I personally don't have a problem with that as long as I like it too. There is no way that I would let him pick a name that I don't like. However, we seem to be having a problem. We can't seem to find a name that we both like, or that works well within our unusual constraints. And I'm getting antsy now. What if this baby comes and we still don't have a name? My family keep asking if we have found a name yet and we haven't.

A good few weeks were spent on various X-Men and superheroes' names, another few were spent on the most popular chinese and japanese names, a lot of precious time was wasted on names that don't even deserve a mention. And in the meantime, we still haven't got a name for Peanut. I am getting a bit anxious now as the birth is getting closer and we can't seem to find the right name for us.

Now we are not completely at a loss. We have found a few names that we like but we have thrown so many names at each other that we keep forgetting which ones we liked. I know, it would be very easy to write them down but we keep forgetting to do it to. A friend of ours has even compiled a list with a name for every single letter of the alphabet. Mr Foodie has asked all of his Facebook friends for ideas. We even went through the French calendar where a name is displayed daily to try and find one.

We have managed a shortlist of about 5 or 6, but it feels like people are taking pot shots at those daily. No later than this morning another one had to be struck off the list because one of Mr Foodie's coworkers' wife gave birth last night and picked the name already. Arghhhhh.

Hopefully, we will be able to settle on a name soon and all will be well by the time the baby is born. In the meantime, if you have any ideas, please don't hesitate to leave any suggestion in the comments.

8 weeks to go.

Yes, 8 weeks to go. That's all that's left now until this baby comes into the world. I am secretly hoping that he will be like his sisters and make a somewhat early arrival. Marie was 5 weeks early and Noelie was 2 weeks early. So 3 weeks early sounds good enough to me.

 

I am very glad to say that my sciatica has eased a lot. Yes, the place looks like a bombsite most of the time because I don't bend down to pick up stuff as much as I used to. I don't hoover or wash the floors anymore either as it seemed to be triggering the sciatica (good excuse isn't it!). I have to say that Mr Foodie has more than stepped up to the mark on the whole housecleaning side of things. He is now in charge of a lot of the household chores and I have to admit that he is doing quite a good job at it too. I know I tend to be a bit demanding on the hoovering and cleanliness side of things but he does it really well (well, nearly as good as I would ;-P). Things have improved so well on the sciatica front that the physio said that she wouldn't give me another appointment, but to call if things deteriorated. The exercises she has given me have helped and I think that the fact that Peanut has moved up a bit and isn't lying on my back anymore probably has helped too.

 

I still feel like a whale at times. I was weighed in the hospital last week and was quite happy to discover that I was under the 63 kgs mark which I find quite reasonable and puts my weight gain at around 8 kgs so far. I know there is more weight to put on especially now that we are nearing the end. I am and never have been obsessed with my weight. I believe that you can eat anything you want as long as you eat the bad stuff in moderation. I am particularly paying attention at the amount of calcium I eat at the moment. I have had a couple of toothaches lately and I know it's from Peanut sucking the calcium out of my bones and teeth (he has to find it somewhere, doesn't he!). There is even a French saying that says 'Un enfant, une dent' (a child, a tooth).

 

I have been a bit tired lately, but I'm not sure if it is pregnancy related or just the running around I have done in the past weeks that has me like that. We have had a few busy and somewhat stressful weeks and I am sure that hasn't helped.

 

We are slowly getting ready for the arrival of baby and I am already thinking ahead about packing the hospital bag. I know it's early but apart from vests and pjs for Peanut, we have pretty much got everything we need in. The only reason we haven't got vests and PJs is because we are quite picky and we want wraparound vests that we can find in France and not here. And although PJs are widely available here too, I think the French ones are cuter. So we are going to order some soon.

 

Last week, I went for a checkup as I mentioned and I was also delighted to find out that this time around I haven't had as many kidney infections as I did on Noelie. It was unfortunately the bane of Noelie's pregnancy (that and the fact that she was breached, of course) and I was on antibiotics for a week after any check up. This time around I had one and I didn't need antibiotics for it so I am very pleased with that. The doctor in the hospital also gave us another scan which we really weren't expecting and it looks like Peanut is already head down, which would explain some of the weird kicks I have been receiving. I am getting kicked in the ribs and punched in the hips quite a lot and he is very, very active. Sometimes my whole belly seems to move to one side. The rib kicking is quite uncomfortable and seems to happen more in the evening, when I am sitting down. The consultant also confirmed that it was still a boy.

 

Marie is getting really excited and is a great help around the house. She tries to send me off for naps when she gets in from school (I wonder is she doing it for my own good or is she trying to get up to something when I'm not looking). She plays with her sister as much as she can so that Noelie is not constantly looking for my attention.

 

Noelie seems to understand that there is a baby in my belly and if you ask her to give her baby brother a kiss, she will come over, lift up my top and give my belly a kiss. Or blow a raspberry on it... Or slap it depending on her mood. She has also taken to try and give the baby her soother. She tries and stick in through my belly button which is quite funny. Sometimes if you ask her where the baby is, she lifts up her own top and points to it laughing. She is quite a character. And I am not too worried about how she will react to a new baby in the house. I am pretty sure that she will be ok, as she is fascinated by her big sister and tries to do the same things as her. Fingers crossed!

 

We don't have much running around to do in the next couple of weeks so I am hoping to recharge my batteries during this time. And I know that after that things will go really fast. Marie finishes school in a couple of weeks. We are going to see the Script in concert in 3 weeks time (I didn't know I was pregnant when I booked the tickets and I am not giving them up. That's if Mr Foodie will take me because technically these are his tickets.). We have another hospital appointment in about 3 weeks too. Then my dad is coming over to pick up Marie and whisk her away to France until the end of August. She will not be here when her little brother is born but she is old enough and she is the one who made the choice. I mean if you had to chose between 5 weeks of sunshine, swimming pools, bike rides and fun with Papi & Mamie or stay at home with a newborn that does nothing but eat, sleep, poo and cry which would you chose? Yep. We would all chose the fun option.

 

I have decided not to go to antenatal classes this time around. It is after all my third pregnancy and I believe I have been from one extreme to the other when it comes to giving birth. I had a completely natural birth on Marie and she was a premie and I had a c-section on Noelie since she was breached (although I did go into labour spontaneously). I am not too stressed about the birth (yet) and as they say que sera, sera. Unlike in the UK, there are no talks of birth plans here. No talks of music playing, no talks of birth pools or anything like that. Check ups etc feel more like a factory than a personalized experience. You don't get to meet the same midwife during your pregnancy, and you pretty much get whoever is there on the day. When you go in a for a check up, you hand in your chart, you hand in your little container of pee and you wait to be called out to one of the 4 or 5 consulting rooms. There you meet a consultant (never the same one) who checks your blood pressure, prods your belly and if you're lucky (like I was the last time) gives you a quick scan. If you don't have any questions, you are then sent on your merry way home until next time.

 

The only thing I am getting worried about is making it to the hospital on time.Marie's labour was only 5 and a bit hours. On Noelie, my waters broke (I was already in the hospital getting checked out because I felt that there was something wrong and I didn't know what it was) and I was wheeled into the operating theater very quickly after that. Apparently I was having contractions but apart from a rather uncomfortable tightening of my belly, I wasn't in pain (and that was before being given any kind of anaesthetics). So I am hoping against hope that this time, I will recognize the contractions for what they are, and that this baby will hold on long enough for us to make it into the hospital! I have already warned my neighbour that I will be calling upon her as soon as I feel something especially if Mr Foodie is in work. Let's wait and see!

If only I had a Filofax!

As most of you now know, I am pregnant. Somewhere between 19 and 21 weeks. I feel a bit silly not having a proper due date. Actually, I feel very, very silly. It makes me sound quite irresponsible really. So let me explain to you how I got there (well, not how I got pregnant, I think we all know how that works!) and the lessons I have learned from it.

You see, being the great technology whizz that I am, I thought it a great idea to keep my dates on my phone. I mean what better way to do it. If you're anything like me, you always have your phone at hand (unless, of course, it's buried under the pile of dirty tissues, nappies, wipes, empty raisin packets and other items we all carry in our handbags, or inadvertently been thrown under any random piece of furniture by a very active toddler while on silent). Way back when I was working, I used to have a lovely Filofax type agenda and would keep a record there. But since I became a Stay at Home mum, I resorted to keeping those important dates on my phone. It is after all way lighter than a big agenda diary thing (and there was not enough room in my bag for a phone and a Filofax). And of course, the stupid thing crashed and any data on it became irretrievable. In itself, not really a big problem (although annoying as hell) until your little friends come around again next month and you can start keeping record again (although by then, you have learned a lesson and keep record somewhere else too, like your laptop or something).

Lesson 1: Don't rely on technology.
Lesson 2: I need a Filofax (any lovely Filofax people feel like making a pregnant lady happy?)

So here I am, patiently waiting for my friends to come around and play. But then, it starts snowing. A lot. And a day feels like a week, a week feels like a month and the whole month the snow was around made me completely lose track of time. You see had it not been snowing, I would have been doing normal things like shopping etc and I would have remembered things, my weeks would have had some kind of structure. But instead I was stuck indoors, school was closed and who can remember what day that upteenth rerun of 'Come dine with me' was on? Or what day we watched that very interesting episode of 'Waybuloo'? (Wait, aren't all episodes of Waybuloo the same?) Well, not me. At the beginning of December, I did ask Mr Foodie when was the last time my friends had been around. You'd think a man would remember that, you know with being deprived of you know what for about a week. Not Mr Foodie, who assured me that it wasn't that long ago (emm, taking advantage of the situation, maybe?). I wasn't feeling any different. I have never suffered from morning sickness with either of the girls, and in typical fashion, didn't have any this time either (don't all hate me, please). The only thing was a very uncomfortable day with terrible stomach cramps that saw me stay in bed all day in the middle of December. Oh and sciatica, worse than I ever had before. I just thought it was to do with the sofa being so uncomfortable, so we went off to Ikea to buy me a lovely new chair to sit on and the problem seemed to decrease. So December came and went, we went off to celebrate Christmas in France (just about, because, you know, of all the snow).

Lesson 3: Don't rely on men to remember the date of your last period.

By the time we came back, we were almost sure that yes, you know, there was a little peanut in my belly. But then, the heating wasn't working and the snow had melted so life took over. Eventually, we bought a couple of pregnancy tests. Being as late as it was (and how fancy we are), we went for the super mega 'tells you how long you're gone' digital one, a double pack, just to be sure. So off I went to pee on the wonderfully magical wand that was going to tell me how pregnant I was. After I managed to sit on the toilet (don't laugh, it's not easy with sciatica!) and pee on the bloody thing, the result came back: 'Faulty'. Great! Apparently I either peed on the thing too much or I didn't put it down properly afterwards. A few glasses of water later, I repeated the operation (which included more cringeing from the pain of sitting down) and, result, it worked! It told me I was 3 weeks + pregnant. Emm, great but I knew that already!

Lesson 4: refer to lesson 1.

So, off we went to the doctor's. Of course, she asked me when my last period was. Cue, embarassed laugh. I don't know. So we settled for November 8th (yeah, I know quite far, isn't it?). We listened to the heartbeat and all. Everything went well. She told me to book my first hospital apointment in the next couple of weeks. Which we did, of course. I am technologically challenged, but not completely irresponsible. The nice lady who booked me in nearly choked on her coffee (or lunch) at the other end of the phone when I told her I wanted to book my first appointment at 16 weeks. The problem was that they were booked out until the end of April but she found me a cancellation that very same week.

Going into the hospital felt strange, like it wasn't that long ago that I was in there (wait, it wasn't really that long ago!). The midwife poked and proded my belly and declared that I was more than likely 18 weeks and not 16. So that was another 2 weeks shaved off in an instant which would bring my due date forward to the end of July. And my last period back to sometime around Hallowe'en (oooops). She also referred me to the Physio clinic for my sciatica and urged me to book the earliest scan I could so that we could date me more accurately.

So the scan is booked for April 6th. Hopefully, I will have a better idea then. All I know now is that my belly is getting bigger and I do look just about pregnant now (I am quite petite to start with). My neighbour joked that I just looked a bit fat around the middle and that some of her clients (she's a personal trainer) had bigger bellies than I did. And they're not even pregnant! I have been feeling kicks for the past 4 or 5 weeks now although they are yet to be felt from the outside.

So now, let me formally introduce you to Peanut in my Belly or Foodie Baby number 3 (or 4, Mr Foodie sometimes counts as a child, a big one, but still a child), due date: end of July, beginning of August.

Dear So and So...

Dear Eircom,

When we got the phone line and broadband in with you, we thought you would provide us with acceptable service. You know Next Generation, national provider etc. Well, I am quite unhappy to say that we have felt terribly let down by you. Firstly, there is no such thing as Next Generation, never congested broadband if you live in the middle of the sticks. The only thing you can get is a measly 1GB broadband. But hey, considering you're the only one that can provide us with Internet access here, we went along with it. What we didn't expect was a broadband that is so temperamental that it drops 5 to 6 times a day for anything up to 5 hours at a time and only seems to be working in the middle of the night. I know us parents tend to be sleep deprived and be up in the middle of the night etc. But seriously, I don't want to have to set my alarm clock to 2 am to be able to use my computer and write a blog post without you dropping for god knows how long. So when your engineer came out back in October and fixed the problem, we thought that would be it. Cue buzzer sound. Wrong answer! A couple of months ago, the problem started again and had worsened causing SuperFoodie to done his supercape and fight with you. You sent somebody out to the house, who couldn't figure out what was wrong so you declared the problem fixed. It wasn't. So SuperFoodie had to come out of his slumber again to make you understand that it wasn't fixed. Eventually, you sent the same engineer back up. Maybe this time he did his job, maybe he just got lucky but anyway, the broadband has not dropped since yesterday, so maybe the problem is fixed. In the meantime, be warned SuperFoodie wants his money back.
A suffering from Internet withdrawal Foodie Mummy.

Dear mobile phone,
I have always looked after you. I fed you phone numbers and music and pictures and other things. So when you decided to crash on me back in November, I wasn't happy. I was even less happy when I realized that I couldn't retrieve any of those things especially my dates from your little chip. You have now been replaced by a lovely Smartphone and I don't miss you.
A struggling to use the touch screen thing Foodie Mummy.

Dear pregnancy test that tells you how long you're gone.

You obviously only work for the people who are eager to know as early as possible. I spent quite some money on you only to discover that you could only tell me that I was 3 weeks +. Thank you for nothing, I knew that already! I was hoping for a more accurate assessment.

Dear snow,
Why did you have to make time stand still for more than a month! If you hadn't come, maybe I would have remembered that my last period was that long ago, instead, I looked like an idiot when I went to the doctor's in February saying I thought I was pregnant but that I couldn't remember the date of my last period because of a crashed phone and you. I also looked like an idiot when I went to the hospital for the first time and the midwife thought I was 18 weeks gone instead of the 16 weeks we had settled for. I still do look like an idiot, when I tell people that I am between 19 and 21 weeks pregnant or that the baby is due sometimes between July and August. Hopefully, the upcoming scan will be able to help us narrow it down.
A halfway through pregnancy Foodie Mummy.

Dear peanut in my belly.
Sorry for not acknowledging your existence any earlier, but can you please stop making me pay for it now and lay off my sciatic nerve and bladder? Not being able to get up to go to the loo because I can't move my legs or even just sit on the toilet without feeling sharp pains is not Mummy's idea of fun, especially in the middle of the night. I promise that we will have lots of fun when you come out but in the meantime, please shift positions.
A struggling to move Foodie Mummy.

What's in a name?

Nowadays, you can call your child pretty much what you want. From Apple to Pilot Inspektor (I'm serious, check it out!), to more conventional names. The choice is endless. There are hundreds of baby name books out there. You can make it more original by playing with the spelling, you can find some obscure ancient name if you wish.

I have always liked names that are not too common. I like my children to be unique. But I wouldn't go as far as picking some of the names that celebrities do. Being in a multinational family, choosing your child's name can be quite tricky as you want to make sure that both sides can pronounce it properly. This pretty much ruled out a majority of Celtic names. Even with tweaking out the spelling, you can not escape the fact that Saoirse sounds like 'take the cat out' in French (Sors chat), or that Roisin would end up being pronounced Raisin. And the other way around. Some French names just sound horrible with an English accent.

I have to admit though, that I was a bit shocked here at the lack of originality of some people when it comes to names. No offense intended but how many people from the same family can bear the same name? I think that naming your baby after their mother, father, uncle, aunt, grandmother etc is rather unoriginal (unless they had an original name to start with). I'm not saying that it shouldn't be done, each to their own as my mother in law would say. I do understand there is a sense of legacy behind it but I believe that that legacy can be passed on through a second name as easily as it is with a first one. Marie's second name is a variation on my own great grandmother's name. So I'm not knocking the whole 'naming after somebody' thing. I'm just saying it's not for me. And it does make for rather confusing conversations sometimes.

Picking Marie's name was easy. I had always wanted to use that name for a girl. It is a character in one of my favourite books and there was no convincing me of naming her anything but. It is an international name of neither French nor Celtic origin that can be pronounced easily in both languages.

When it came to Noelie (not her real name), we settled for a Celtic name but that could easily be read and said with a French accent. It is actually of French origin but with a Celtic spelling. We were walking around the shops at Christmas time and both seen this personalized Christmas card. And we both liked the name. It was as easy as that. We just stumbled upon it.

Now, you're probably thinking where is she going with the whole naming thing. It's easy. A baby is soon to be born (no, not mine) to a close family member. And I recently asked about the name of the baby. Some people like to keep it quiet until after the birth, some will tell you beforehand. So out of curiosity, I just asked. And I was told. I was told the first name, which is a perfectly normal and conventional name. However, I was shocked. And my shock came from the fact that it is basically just the abbreviation of Noelie's real name. The most common and natural abbreviation of it. Now, we don't call her by that but I'm sure that some day somebody will shorten her name to that. It did annoy me a bit, and I told Mr Foodie about it. It didn't seem to phase him much. Yes they are very similar names but we chose the name first so it's not a big deal.

Later on in the day, Mr Foodie went out with Marie to visit a close family friend. And while he was there, he sent me a text. First and second names of the baby to come. And my face just dropped. They had picked a second name which was also perfectly normal and conventional. It took me the whole of about 20 seconds to come up with this though. If you put the 2 names together and you say it a bit fast, you end up with Noelie's real name. Not a variation of it, just that, her name. I later found out the mum to be had always wanted to use that name for a girl. So it sounds to me like she settled for the closest thing. And it annoys me because I want my child to be unique. I don't want her to, even remotely, share her first name with a close family member less than a year younger than her. I understand I have no say in what people call their own children, and I don't pretend to, but I would have thought that this wasn't the done thing, at least not without consulting first.

What do you think? Am I overreacting? Have you turned down names because a close friend or relative had already picked it? Did you name your child after a family member? Did you consult with them first?

Recipe for pain.

I know, today is not Friday so it shouldn't be recipe day. But I realize I haven't posted a recipe in a long time. For those who do not speak french, pain means bread. Remember the Pain perdu (lost bread) a while back, that used up stale bread? Well, this week, I am going to give you a very special recipe for Pain. It is guaranteed to have everybody in your house appreciate you. It is a recipe that does not require you to go to the shops as all the ingredients are already available in your house. The only precise information I cannot give you is how long it will take for you to perfect it as it varies depending on who cooks it. Now it doesn't serve many either but it is the best recipe for peace and quiet for a while (and maybe some compassion from your husband / partner / boyfriend).

So without further a do, here is my very trusted and secret recipe for Pain:
Serves 1.

Ingredients:

- 1 baby (preferably around 20 pounds)
- 1 low bouncer
- 1 play mat
- 1 cot (with the base at its lowest)
- 1 washing machine
- 1 oven
- 1 bathtub.

1 - Take Baby up from low base cot.

2 - Put Baby in bouncer for bottle.

3 - Place mat about 1 foot away from bouncer.

4 - When the bottle is finished, pick up Baby and place the him/her on the play mat performing the hovering baby move (pick up, move swiftly from one side to the other , and sit down on mat).

5 - Sit Baby back up (as many times as required). Do not get worried if Baby becomes as stiff as a board, it only means that the sitting up or lying back positions are not his particular choice at the moment and (s)he would rather be standing up.

6 - Pick up baby and put on the sofa for a quick nappy change. Please ensure that nappies and other necessities are placed behind you just out of reach causing you to try and reach backward while holding the baby down so that (s)he doesn't fall from the sofa.

7 - Pick up baby and place in car seat making sure you do not bang your head (so keeping your back arched).

8 - After school run, pick up baby from car seat (once again, don't forget to arch your back).

9 - Place baby in cot. Please note this step might be repeated a few times if Baby is not willing to cooperate and sleep.

10 - When Baby is finally asleep, go to the room in which your washing machine is located. Sort out the clothes to be washed on the floor. Unload the washing machine and reload with dirty clothes (remember everybody: backs arched).

11 - Hoover around (make sure your nose is nearly as close to the floor as the hoover sucky bit is).

12 - Pick up Baby from cot.

13 - Repeat steps 1 to 9 as many times as required.

14 - Prepare a lovely dish in the oven, that cooks for hours and needs to be checked on regularly. Make sure that the oven is at the lowest level possible causing you to bend down as much as possible

15- Pick up Baby from play mat and place in bathtub. Wash Baby with arched back again.

16- Place Baby in cot for bedtime (again, uncooperative babies will have you repeating this step a few times)

Once you have performed all these steps, your pain should start to take shape. Depending on your level of practice, you should see the results of this lovely recipe within anything from a few hours to a few days. You might need to cook this recipe a few days in a row in order to get the best result possible (a whole weekend of rest). I have tried and tested it and I can tell you, you have just read the best recipe for back pain ever (and I don't mean bread).

Enjoy!