"Those" Mums

Testing the water

I feel the need to confess. I think I've become one of "those" Mums. You know - the ones who massage the truth about what their children can do. As in: "Sleep through the night? Oh yes, since day 3; Talking? What, you mean, your's isn't?; Walking? Months ago, months ago." 

But it was for a good cause. Namely swimming. Or to get a spot on a swimming course, to be more precise. They're rarer than gold dust in these parts. At least, the ones on the posh course in the Guy's Hospital hydrotherapy pool are. Must say a lot about the local swimming pools I reckon. Anyway, being me, I'd never got round to trying to get Louis onto on of the swimming courses at Guy's, mainly because I was told when he was about one week old that it was impossible. 

Given how much he loves splishing and splashing (to quote one of his DC songs) I thought I really should make an effort, hence I found myself in a phone queue to the swimming lesson guys Little Dippers for about half an hour yesterday. Needless to say, all the courses he was suitable for, like the beginners ones because his Mum's never bothered doing one with him before, were booked solid. Until about Christmas. So I found myself being somewhat liberal with the truth about his splishing prowess. The handful of times I'd bothered to take him in DC turned into: "Swimming? Oh yes, I can barely get him out of the pool. Under water? He's like a little fish." Okay, so I lied. But it was for Louis' sake. Honestly. 

I was more than nervous when we went along today for our trial class. Especially because the main activity in the class I was joining seemed to be ducking babies under water. Repeatedly. And by 13 months, it was touch and go as to whether that special baby diving reflex - Nirvana album cover anyone? - would still kick in. Thankfully, Louis didn't let me down. Or, more importantly, drown. What worries me now, though, is what next? Once you've tasted the falsehoods of competitive Mummying, where will it end? 

DC crew

Somewhat belatedly, I've just remembered I wanted to post this lovely pic of some of Louis' DC crew (Sophie, Tommy and Alex being the glaring obvious exceptions). This was on Julien's first birthday. We've been really sad missing everyone's parties. Perhaps we could time a trip next year to catch some turning 2's. (Also, I've realised we should get some flying in before Louis is two and he's suddenly a way more expensive flying companion.) Stay in touch, y'all. 

Mum's so-called writing job

Taking a break

Louis thought his DC friends might like to know what his Mum's been up to since she started abandoning him three days a week last month. It seems she's found a new writing gig, which might explain why she's been neglecting bwb of late (although she promises to rectify that). Something called the Independent on Sunday, some sort of soft backed book that gets rewritten every week. He's still waiting for the board book version though. 

Anyway, here's a link to an article she wrote this week on, of all subjects, breastfeeding. It's about how 60% of British mums are apparently put off nursing because they're worried about offending passers by. Not that she's ever been made to feel uncomfortable. Then again, most of Louis' outdoor feeds were done in DC. Or, to be more accurate, in Baked + Wired (which for British readers does the best coffee in DC, bar none. And some pretty good cupcakes too). 

She also wrote a piece about Slumgirl Dreaming, by the Slumdog star Rubina Ali, which is apparently the youngest autobiography ever published - she's just nine. But what about this blog? I've been writing about my life since I was four months old. That's got to count for something. 

TV dinner

So Roger Federer made tennis history by winning 15 Gram Slams at Wimbledon yesterday. And Louis was there to watch. Sort of. We actually wish he'd wrapped up that fifth set (16-14) a little quicker as we'd been hoping to walk to the river to enjoy the last of the sunny weather. Plus I was worried for the heavily pregnant Mrs Federer. Four-plus hours of tension in the sunshine can't have been good for her or baby-Federer-to-be. As for winning that 16th, 17th and 18th title, Federer sounded pretty confident on the radio just now that he'd get there but baby F might have something to say about that. I'm guessing that to be a grand champion of champions you need to practice a little. And sleep. 

Happy, er, 13 months, Louis!

I can't believe it. I failed to mark the milestone of Louis turning one. For months, I'd been thinking about what to write, what to say, how to describe my feelings and.... I failed. Suffice to say it was major. And yet, it was just another day. A grey, English day down at my Mum's on the coast. But we had fun. Happy belated birthday Louis. And a big thanks to everyone for all his great presents. One month on, here's a flavour of what we got up to. 

Our bubbles from the night before (to mark the fact that 12 months earlier I'd been in so much pain!)

Present number one!

Thanks G-A Claire!

The balloon was the biggest hit.

Our trip to a rare breeds sanctuary (far more PC than a zoo...)

The cake

More balloon fun

Splashing in Louis' Lido (with thanks to GP)

More Grandparental presents the next day

And finally, thanks to the Californian crew