I have the most amazing baby boy who smiles and coos (and shits and cries but let's not dwell too long on that).
When the trauma has faded sufficiently I may write a post about my incarceration in the Hopital de la Mere et de l'enfant in Limoges, but for now the important facts are as follows:
Midwives' doom and gloomery all proved to be bollocks as 'tiny baby' Rufus storms up the baby size charts from the bottom three to the top twenty five in a matter of weeks.
I seem to have to lucked out on the caesarian front. Despite having to be stapled together thus:
DIY is taking a back seat as I mostly have a baby attached to me in some form or other. However, he is conveniently undisturbed by the noise of the chain saw and sleeps through it. Did I mention that the Tall One bought me a chain saw for Christmas? All the better for sawing up this lot:
My sis in law gave me a novel for Christmas on yummy-mummyism. "Take some time for yourself" it advises. "Have a pedicure". Not in my world. "Take some time for yourself. Play with power tools"