Saturday, 3 March 2012


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:

my stomach muscles seem not to have been affected too badly. In fact immediately following my 'op' the only thing that stopped my chasing one of the midwives down the corridor and giving her a good kicking was the fact that I was tethered to the bed by my drip and a catheter tube. Ouch.

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:

Mr. D-the-lumberjack from whom I bought the wood suggested a bow-saw was sufficient. It would be. But it takes much MUCH longer than the chain saw and isn't half as much fun.

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"

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