.... random rants and rambles. no agenda. yet.

yesterday, me and c were walking down the hill with harrythedog and the boy, when we came across a pigeon sitting in the middle of the road.

noting that although it was a quiet single-track road, pigeons do not usually sit in such places, i asked c (who knows far more about biology and stuff than i do) if she thought the pigeon was injured.

"yes, i think so," she said.

"do you think it's going to die?" i asked her.

she nodded solemnly. "maybe."

as we walked closer and closer to the pigeon, i felt really sad and sorry for it, but couldn't think of anything i could do to help it, mainly because i'm a bit of a wimp. knowing this, c offered to pick it up and move it to the side of the road so that it wouldn't get run over. i agreed that this was a good idea, so she put the brake on the pram and went to pick up the poor, helpless pigeon.

then, the poor helpless pigeon flew off!

is it bad that i laughed all the way down the hill?

Posted by j at 1:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

ok so i'm under pressure here. i have the boy on my left arm - because he refuses to be elsewhere - while i type and eat toast with my right hand. the dog is salivating by my right elbow, wondering when i am going to give up on the toast and give it all to him.

so you will have to forgive the lower case.

who cares about capitalisation, anyway? lower case is the new black.

and yes, i could be wearing the boy in a sling. in fact, i WAS wearing the boy in a sling, but he decided that he wanted to hijack my arm instead. this means, of course, that the sling is still slung around my body... the swathes of black fabric make me look a bit like a cross between a headmistress and a pirate. sometimes, on days like this, i feel like i'm in fancy dress, swooshing around the house in delight with loose, babyless material trailing after me.

and then the tesco delivery man gives me a funny look and i whip it all off.

but anyway, this isn't a mummyblog. it isn't an anythingblog, actually. so i will move on and discuss the nation's favourite topic. the weather. and BBQs.

for example, our new gas BBQ will be delivered soon, i hope, but probably not in time for this weekend, which is forecast either to be rainy or sunny, depending on where you obsess over your weather information. hmm.

[the fact that we're getting a new gas BBQ stems from how a) we recently realised that our next door neighbour's newish boyfriend is BBQ Man #2, and life would be unbearable if we were unable to copy him; and b) C is our very own BBQ Man, but breastfeeding and lighting BBQs do not go together, so unless we get a gas one, we will never have a BBQ this year. that's why.]

oh, and does anyone agree that those nasty men in the apprentice are only there to make people like me, C, Ce, E and Jacks get mad, throw our shoes at the tv, and keep watching every single week, just in case they get fired?

Posted by j at 10:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Somehow, The Boy is a month old today. This seems to be a good time to reflect on some of the many lessons which aren't highlighted in any of the baby manuals that we own. Mind you, they may be; reading frantically at 3am isn't one of the best times to absorb info. Ironically.

* Supermarkets categorise nappies etc as "baby accessories", which both scares me and makes me think of how 19 year olds "pimp their mobiles" (or whatever you're meant to say to refer to fucking about with/customisng small, fast cars - I'm not too familiar with 19 year olds' lingo these days).

* It is possible to spend an entire day with baby vomit all down your front, and not realise until you're getting ready for bed, or someone gives you a funny look, or possibly both at the same time.

* It isn't a good idea to save your baby's 0-3 months sized clothing until they have outgrown their newborn sized stuff, because it will either all fit or be too small already (rather than huge, as you had thought), and just add to the wardrobe confusion that apparently never ends.

* Random people in the street will suddenly stare at you, point in your direction and say things like "AHHHHHHH!" or "Look, Irene, there's a baby hiding in there!" and it will take you a few moments to realise that's because you have your baby in a sling.

* People who you've just met will decide it's OK to a) tell you why they think your baby is crying, b) what you should do to stop them doing so, and c) insist they are right.

* Babies' poo travels faster than the speed of light when they haven't got nappies on. Sod's law.

Posted by j at 5:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

The Co-op/RN.ID lovefest continues. And here is Part 2, which happened today:

I enter Hebden Co-op, groaning as I remember again about the RN.ID being its Charity of the Year. I do my shopping (with some difficulty, due to lack of kip) and then queue at the checkout. While I'm queuing, I notice a large poster advertising a raffle to raise money for none other than the RN.ID. The prize is a vast amount of chocolate, but I am not tempted. I pay for my shopping...

Cashier: (Brightly) Would you like to buy a raffle ticket?

Me: (Equally brightly) Um, no thank you.

[Cashier looks very surprised and stares at me.]

Me: Is it for the RN.ID?

Cashier: (Recovering) Yes.

Me: Well, then. I'm Deaf and I don't agree with the RN.ID, so, no.

Cashier: (Surprised) You're Deaf?

Me: Yes.

Cashier: And you don't want...

Me: No. I don't agree with the RN.ID.

Cashier: (Rather horrified) Why not?!

Me: Er, it's a long story.

[The cashier leans forward in interest, but I note that the queue behind me is not interested, so decide against trying to explain.]

Me: I don't like charity. No charity.

[The cashier eyes me suspiciously.]

Cashier: (Defiantly) I'm learning sign language!

Me: That's good. That's very good!

[I finish filling my bags, sign THANK YOU and leave, with the cashier and everyone in the queue giving me odd looks.]

God, this is hard work.

Posted by j at 3:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Get us and our ORGANISATION!

It is 11.15am and we have eaten breakfast. Yes, actual breakfast-breakfast, not "oops, it's 1pm, shall we scrap breakfast and just have lunch instead?" mealage. Oh YEAH.

I am proud of that fact. Slightly alarmed by my proudness, but proud nevertheless.

I am also proud that last night's projectile vomit damage is now churning around in the washing machine, and we are currently waiting for tesco.com to deliver groceries.

The baby? Oh, he's asleep in a Tricotti on Mummy C (who is filling in a multitude of those forms that you have to fill in when you pop a sprog). We like it when he isn't throwing up all over us or standing firmly in his poo, though that's cool too, somehow.

Woo!

Posted by j at 11:13 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)